I took the girls to a local amusement park this past Friday. We hadn't been to one in 3 years, so it was a real treat. Dana had to wear her sneakers with gell cushions to make the 48 inch requirement...And after the Boston Tea Party ride, (basically a Giant version of the flume that seats 20 people.) her shoes were soaked, but no matter. The three of us had an awesome day! Arriving at 11:00am, we walked the park back and forth for the next 8 hours or so, leaving at 7:45pm. I was in bed by 10:30 that night! A truly wonderful exhausting day.
This week is a tough one for me. It will be 2 years ago August 11th that Peter died. It is strange how different this year has been to last. Not really any easier, just different. I haven't been reliving the horror show day to day, though I wonder if the body does hold onto memories in some visceral sense, regardless of what our brain holds onto. I had been having a perfectly wonderful day on Saturday, when all of a sudden a dark cloud of doom descended. It came out of no where. I sat still for a moment trying to figure it out, when it hit me that 2 years ago to the day, almost to the hour, the doctors brought me in for the talk, confirming that Peter's condition was terminal. I wonder if the trauma and stress a body is put through lives on in us at a cellular level, a biological PTSD of sorts.
It is at this point my very good friend Eva would say. "Kirsten you think about things way too much." And she is right, in that the answer wouldn't really change how I am feeling or doing. What can I say, but that I am an intensely curious person.
This week is a tough one for me. It will be 2 years ago August 11th that Peter died. It is strange how different this year has been to last. Not really any easier, just different. I haven't been reliving the horror show day to day, though I wonder if the body does hold onto memories in some visceral sense, regardless of what our brain holds onto. I had been having a perfectly wonderful day on Saturday, when all of a sudden a dark cloud of doom descended. It came out of no where. I sat still for a moment trying to figure it out, when it hit me that 2 years ago to the day, almost to the hour, the doctors brought me in for the talk, confirming that Peter's condition was terminal. I wonder if the trauma and stress a body is put through lives on in us at a cellular level, a biological PTSD of sorts.
It is at this point my very good friend Eva would say. "Kirsten you think about things way too much." And she is right, in that the answer wouldn't really change how I am feeling or doing. What can I say, but that I am an intensely curious person.
