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How is it that I still continue to find Zev’s death and the permanence of that reality not only hard to swallow but utterly unbelievable? Will acceptance ever come for me?

Is it because of some survival safety mechanism hard-wired into my brain? For, honestly, when I do stand and face the facts — telling myself I will never again feel her small hand in mine, or wake up to her shining smile, it feels like I might explode. My body shakes and a sea of rage boils up inside of me, while on the outside tears pour steadily down, like rain. I think that if my mind allowed me to process my new reality all at once, rather than in tiny peices, over time, I would surely go mad, and perhaps die of turbulent emotional overload.

Or is it because she continues to live on, a dancing spirit that whispers to us on the wind and shines love upon the world like distant star-light?

Perhaps it is because I want her to not simply have ceased to exist so badly that my powerful mind doesn’t allow for any contingencies… for now I simply accept that I do not have the answers.

I continue to grasp at straws in attempt to find some way to transform this living horror into only a nightmare from which I will one day awaken.


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