1 step forward, 2 steps back

July 24, 2026

I've been working on managing my grief by making room, little by little, for life outside this unrelenting pain.

I have a lot of responsibilities. So I started with work. I'm fortunate enough to truly enjoy what I do. Since Ryan passed, I haven't experienced joy... only fleeting glimpses here and there.

A strategy from grief counseling: build a "bridge" before and after work. A mental note. An affirmation I say out loud before I start. Something like... "I'm starting work now. I acknowledge this grief cannot be suppressed. I will do my best and accept my limitations. I am not suppressing the pain. I am making room for work."

It's been working. I've been able to focus a little more. Be reasonably productive.

Today, the insurance adjuster called. Ryan's car was released by the Pulaski County Sheriff. We discussed next steps. I called Pam to give her the news. We talked about it... started googling the VIN to find out which dealership sold him his truck.

We found an auction website. Fourteen incredibly detailed photos of the mangled wreckage.

I was still in "problem solver" mode. Pam broke down. I helped calm her. We finished the call.

Since the vehicle was released, I assumed the accident reconstruction report was done too. I called the sheriff's office. I was told the Seargent wouldn't be in until 5:00.

I called the coroner's office to request the report. Then the Medical Examiner's office. I was in "work mode"...

And then, all of the sudden, my heart sank. I got dizzy. I started to sweat. I was on the same phone, in the same office, talking to the same people I did right after I got the worst call of my life. I was even wearing the same shirt.

I couldn't catch my breath. I felt the exact same feelings. Like I'd just gotten the call.

I had to leave work. I had to get home. To the comfort and safety of our house. My bubble.

I don't know how I'm going to make it through this. I can't understand how, after two months, this all still feels the same as it did on day 1. No better. At all.

I can say it's not worse.

I guess that's something.