I love the fact that after a plane crash, they can go back and look at the blackbox.
They can see all the information that happened right before the crash.
They can reconstruct the information to know why, who, what, when, and how.
Its so smart.
They are starting to equipe them in trains as well.
And now some cars even can sense when you have been in a crash.
I so wish the brain had a similar black box.
A way to go back to the moment of the accident.
A way to go back a few moments before the accident.
There are so so many questions I have.
And absolutely no way to answer them.
Did Roger see the SUV? Did he try to react? Did he brake? Did he see the cops riding behind and in front of us?
Did he say something to me? It seems like I vaguely remember something but I think I am making it up.
Did he hear me gasp? Did I say something else?
Did he feel pain? Did we have any interaction before I got out of the car? Did he ever regain any sort of consciousness in the car? Could he hear me yelling at him?
What shirt did he have on? I'm not sure why that one bothers me, but it does. I have no idea and can't remember. I do not have his clothing anymore to try to use a rule out method and not like I had his clothing memorized anyway. I know he looked cute. He was trying to look nice for my friends and family he was going to meet that day.
The hospital gave me back everything but his shirt even his undershirt. I don't know what happened to his actual shirt.
What were we talking about right before? I know it was me that was talking right as I saw the SUV but what we were discussing, I have no idea.
Then, what was the brain doing for those next six days?
Where was Roger's soul? Was it in a holding pattern?
Could he hear us?
Did he know I was there?
Did he know he was dying?
What was happening to his thoughts during his death?
So many many questions and absolutely no answers...
It is beyond frustrating.
Will the questions ever be replaced with peace?
1 comment:
"Will the questions ever be replaced with peace?"
Yes...eventually.
Well, maybe not with peace exactly. "Peace," to me, conveys a certain amount of approval...something I'll never have about Charley's death. It will NEVER be okay with me that he died.
But eventually you come to a point of stasis, where the answers don't really matter anymore. It's not that the questions go away, exactly; it's just that you've had them for so long and so loudly that they just become background noise. A part of your "new" normal as time goes on. A part of you will always wonder what happened, what he thought, if he felt anything, where he is now, but you'll realize that there never are any answers to the endless questions. And the endless questions eventually become too overwhelming, too painful, and you find you have to let go of the need for answers eventually. Not conciously, though; for me it was just a sink-or-swim lack of choice: I couldn't keep torturing myself with those questions or else I'd never pull myself out of the pit of grief.
Eventually it all just blends and dulls into a bizarre combination of "normal." It's not peace, but it's simply a fact of your existence. And over time, as you (unfortunately) get used to life without Roger, the questions start to fade.
I don't know if my answer is a comfort or not...but I hope it helps a bit. Yes, the exquisite pain of it fades but it never goes away entirely. You just get used to it and it becomes increasingly less overwhelming over time (except it takes a LOT of time...far longer than you'd ever expect).
Hang in there,
Candice
Post a Comment