I can’t pretend to know all the aspects of deep grief because these are still early days. The confusion, constant off-balance of logical thought and running emotions, the need to be perceived as ‘ok’ while simultaneously wanting others to know that I am not, in any way, ok. Those things I know.

Not wanting any of the attention or focus to be on me at all because she is the one that lost everything. Wanting so much for her to always to be the center, not me, at the same time needing to ask for help to breathe normally so I can drive home safely. Hating to have to draw attention away from her and on to me.

That I know.

The desperation to hear her name and feel her love through those she loved, through the sympathy from friends, videos with her smile, voice, smirk, and laugh. That I know.

This I don’t know – Do we, the living nightmares of every parent, need the sympathy of others to validate their child’s existence, to assure us that the depth of our grief is valid, to confirm the horror of it all? The depth of my grief somehow a symbol of the perfection of her. I don’t know if this is true for now, or forever. Will I find some other way to move forward with her in the center. Does it matter what I do, if she is to be the focus. How do I keep her in this world and take me out of it. Ah, there it is. A moment of realization. Everything is to bring her back.