The latest series of major work events has passed. I’m in the ebb.
Still struggling to find a place between plow ahead get things done activity and collapsing into traumatised retreat. The grief leaps out at unexpected moments, and I sense that one way I’m protecting myself from it is by blanking out, abstracting the circumstance. A blessing is the patience of my friends, who have been available at those few points where I’ve felt that I could handle company.
P’s friends are legion; he was a committed correspondant, talker, connector. I myself hide out, cut myself off, and allow trivialies to grow into into huge guilt fueled dramas in my head, leaving friends hurt and confused.
While we were together I relied on him to prod me out into the world, to make me keep in touch, to move beyond my fears. In the wake of his death, my own lapses as a friend are brought vividly before my eyes. Hopefully some of those can be ameliorated.