If Tomorrow You Never Died

This day. This day is beyond words. There is nothing that can explain the anguish of this day. The day before you died. Knowing that this day was a normal, even great day. That we had no idea tomorrow, you’d die. You would die. Today we lived; we actually had a beautiful Saturday. By chance, it was a truly special day and evening, probably one we would have talked about for years to come. We’d had many of those. But tomorrow, you’d leave the house in the morning with a few friends, and you’d never come back, your body yes, but you no. 

The days leading up to the day you died hurt in my being. My body aches, as I try so hard to ignore it. But I know, I know, just below the surface is this raging grief. Another deeply inexplainable experience, the word grief encompasses so much, a continuum really. Some will only ever have to dabble in the shallow, while some wade heavily through the deep.

This day feels like I know I am headed into the worst day of my life, and there is absolutely nothing to be done about it. It’s already happened. But I resist, like somehow I can avoid tomorrow, like tomorrow 7 years ago never happened.

7 years ago now. 7 years. It is different than it was earlier on. It is. If I’m being honest and truly allow myself to remember how bad it really was, it is definitely different, better, I guess. But not as different as a version of me having never lived this would think it would be. It’s not that different.Or maybe I just don't let myself remember just how awful it was.  

Tomorrow will hurt. Many days hurt, but today and the days leading up, are a different kind of pain. Like I’m trying desperately to stop and escape the inevitable that is coming. 

I tried never to let myself think, what if the accident never happened? That kind of thinking could make a person insane. But today, I can’t help but wonder, what would our life be like if tomorrow you’d never died?