Psychosomatic.

Isn't it utterly amazing what the human body can endure and keep functioning?

Laboured, sporadic, medicated sleep.

Existing on water.

The mind going 250 km/h.

Heart rate so high you can watch the pulsating in your wrist.

As you sit and pour over every minute and every thought since on loop and repeat to the grief counselor who looks at you with the same pity as the gas station clerk.

It's been 5 weeks and one day.

12:05 as I type.

24 more hours gone without you.

Crosby scored again tonight.

They won 7-2.

I don't believe in anything now, the world just a collection of pages to flip through until you expire, then into the cold ground with you.

But you always said Crosby scored when you watched and he did.

So my brain latched on to that little tidbit of irrational hope.

Isn't that pathetic?

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, right?

But I try to believe in anything.

Your mom and I talked about faith tonight. And how we've lost it all. How we wish something in us believed you were there strumming your guitar with your dad, aunt Elaine cheering you on with Sid and Claude asleep on a blanket.

But I stopped believing fairy tales when I was 6.

And every day there is a new pain that is deeper than the new one from the day prior.

Every day a new prescription to try and make the pain go away and make my body rest.

My body just doesn't understand that my heart figuratively stopped beating when yours did but somehow continues on physiologically.

My hip hurts.

My hair is falling out.

My stomach won't tolerate anything but water.

But the body continues on.

Isn't it amazing what the body can endure and continue surviving?

Except a head-on collision with an F-150 on a dark road.

The strongest body I knew couldn't survive that.