I was able to hear the testimonies of the cops who were behind and in front of us.
Since I did not get the decision I wanted, at least I walked away with that.
Knowing just a few more facts.
A few more things to add to what happened since there is a lapse of my own memory.
Some benefit of a shitty court system.
First, I learned Roger was never conscious.
This had been weighing on me a lot.
What if I was sitting twenty-five feet away during his last conscious moments.
What if I missed those last few moments.
What if he asked for me.
But I did not.
His last few moments were us chit chatting.
Second, I learned our car did a 360 degree turn.
This makes sense to me.
Where his car (because remember it was not him driving that day, ugh) hit our car was just in front of the driver's side door.
And I was very confused as to what direction we were pointing.
For a few moments in the height of my confusion, I thought we may have been pushed into the southbound lanes.
The cops kept asking me to point where we had come from and I could not.
I just kept saying we were driving northbound.
Usually when people talk about a completely different change, they use the phrase "180 degree turn" but I sort of feel like for me it was that 360 degree turn.
In that 360 degree turn, my entire life changed.
Yes, I am still mostly the same person.
But it was like I went in the revolving door as one person and somehow came out different on the other side.
I know another widow who is experiencing a similar feeling, so I do not feel completely abnormal. And if I am, then I am not alone.
And now I have been through another revolving door.
Grief has done all kinds of crazy things to my person.
I am not longer shy.
Not at all.
It is a crazy sensation for me.
I was a very shy child.
Then grew a bit out of it thanks to my friend Igor when I lived in NYC.
And in NYC, I could not be shy.
But now, please.
I will say anything to people.
I have this crazy self-esteem.
It almost oozes from my skin.
And it kind of reminds me of Roger.
And on the eighth month anniversary of the day I lost my best friend, some parts of me are grateful for the changes.
I hate what caused them. More than anything.
But I kind of like the aftermath of me.