I’ve been trying to find the right word to describe what I expect to feel once I’ve traversed all the stages of grief. It’s not that I won’t revisit them because I’ve already cycled through some of them more than once. A few weeks ago I saw a counselor and she said I’d never be over it, never accept it- yeah, that I could relate to. She said I’d “get used to it”. At the time that made more sense than anything I had heard so I went with that. One day I’ll “get used to it”. Getting used to it didn’t seem quite right, but it was the best I had heard. Well, the word that’s come to mind now is resignation. I’m not used to it. I don’t know that I want to get used to it. I don’t accept it. That implies I’m OK with it. I’m not OK with it. No, acceptance isn’t the word. I’m quickly getting resigned to it. Resigned to the fact that this is my new life. I give up. Resignation.
I’ve spent my whole life looking for a comfortable place, trying to get things in order, trying to get things “just right”. I’ve been close, very close, but having everything just right all at the same time has never happened except maybe for a few moments. Being close kept me pushing for that elusive perfect balance. Having Shayna pass like this has finally made me realize for once and all that will never happen. I will never be comfortable here. No matter what happens from here until the day I close my eyes for the final time, it will never be “all right’. Something will always be missing. I’m resigned to that now.