I didn't realize until yesterday, when I said it aloud, that I am grieving.
That is what is happening.
I also didn't realize that the grief process is a recursive one.
At first I was in denial; then I was angry. I bargained; I was depressed; I accepted. But it didn't stop there.
I got angry again. I bargained. I was in denial. I was depressed; I was angry; I accepted.
One small victory (if it can be called that) is that I have come to see that this is natural and right. I am in mourning, and that is okay. Death is not the only loss. I do not have to feel ashamed that I am hurting.
Almost a week ago I lamented that losing Eli was like losing Molly all over again, only worse, a million times worse. And it is. And it will be.
And I have to keep going, regardless.
As many times as I fall, I cannot allow myself to break.
I must bounce.
This one demands it:
And in catching him, I catch myself.