Flashbacks

I have them periodically. Today hit me hard. It was tonight while I was driving home down Harry Anderson. I have had enough sense in me to know that I have been (successfully) avoiding "the stretch" of Harrison for quite some time. I just haven't been able to drive that way much and I go another route if at all possible. Tonight while driving home I found myself brought back to that same stretch of road that I was driving on--so much happened on the day of the crash on that road. Today I found myself regretting what I did that day. What if I had just hopped out of the car and ran to the crash scene. Couldn't I have somehow saved him. No one should die alone, without their sweetheart at their side. If only I could've done something. Yet as soon as I thought all this I knew why that would've been bad if that had happened. I wouldn't have made it faster to the hospital to see the boys. And then I too would've seen the gruesome way my husband was killed. Having now met widows and widowers who did see such graphic horror with their spouses' deaths, I instantly felt grateful I won't have that exact image in my head forever--even though I pretty much already know how things were. Ugh. There was no "saving" of Adam to be done that day. It was so quick, so instantaneous, there was no chance to help him. I hate that. Yet I'm glad he didn't sit there in pain, unable to speak and to express his pain--he was simply gone.

I thought about all the people I called from that stretch of road. I remember bits of my conversations and of the many answering machines I heard. I remember Sherrie's look on her face when she told me to look away from the crash site--and how I had to look anyway. I remember saying that he just couldn't be dead. And she tried to reassure me that he had to be fine. I imagine how I could've easily upset all the children in the car for our long drive downtown if I had been able to see even a little bit better from the road--if it weren't for the trees with all their leaves on during that time of year, I probably would've seen it all. Ugh.

It makes me want to throw up.

I know the next couple months are going to get more and more emotionally draining and tough. I wish they'd get easier.

And then I find myself imagining that maybe nothing will be different than it is right now in 5 years. I will still feel just as disturbed about the many memories that surround me, my empty bed, the many reminders that he is and will always be gone from my life for the rest of my life. It is still just inconceivable.

And then I think about the goodness that he was. I will never find someone like him again. Never. Someone who appreciates hard work, someone who is brilliant and deserves all the good possible in life, someone who has respect for me, somewhat who believes the way I do, someone who is not quick to anger or rash judgement of others, someone who loves to be loved and needs me, somewhat who has a quiet confidence that does not appear overly cocky. He was a good man. I'm certain he continues to learn in the spirit world where he is, and I'm certain in many of the tasks I encounter that he is right by my side, learning in his own way.

I wish there could be some sort of logic or sense to all that I'm going through and will yet endure. I am pretty pessimistic on that front though. I just want to find happiness. And I don't want to have to seek it out. All I can do is pray that I will be at the right place at the right time for good things to come my way. I have faith God will work if out. I just wish I were able to check in, have a little chat, snuggle up to Adam, feel him. Just for a day. Sort of like an annual family reunion? If only.