You know those dark, rainy nights? Where it's so cold out that the chill seeps into your bones. You bundle up under the blankets and you can't get warm. No matter what you do, layering, blowing on your hands - the numbness just doesn't let go?
This is what my grief feels like.
It's this ever present weight that I can't shake off. My one friend likes to remind me that it's still relatively early in my grieving process, "It's only been 2 months."
When I think about it like that, it makes sense. The shock still hasn't worn off. I cry a lot. I want answers that I'll never get. I want to understand the inexplicable, the incomprehensible.
But there are no answers.
My friend's actions that night don't match who I knew him to be. I'll never know what triggered those events. But I can choose which memories are in the forefront of my mind. Instead of remembering his last act, I can remember what a great friend he was. How warm, kind, and giving he was. Perhaps in time I can be rid of what seems like this permanent burden and my grief will turn into only fond memories.
One can hope.