To Know..

My mind is like the art project in school where you use a spinner to create a myriad of colors in a spun design. You can't really control the design, or how much color goes where, at least not as a child. And you can try to duplicate them, but they usually are one of a kind. Coming out different each time although you put the same colors in. My mind keeps spinning so I am not sure what the outcome may be. It has been a busy week. We met with our lawyer and had the opportunity to read all the witness accounts and reports, etc. Things keep getting changed and rescheduled. Alot of info going back & forth. I believe knowledge is a good thing. I prefer knowledge to the unknown. I didn't have to read it all, and I know we were told more at the time of her death than the average person because of the cameraderie of Law Enforcement. And I know the truth can't be worse than what my mind sees every time I think of it. I know the assumptions would have left me with nagging doubts. Yet the knowing changes me. It stirs up the stability of my mind and leaves me uncertain. Being told something is absorbed differently than reading it. Your ears bring it into your mind in a different way than your eyes do. The brain processes it differently. Knowing changes the threads of time. It stretches them then pulls you back. The most insignificant of details screams at me. What I think should stay with me and prolong my sleepless nights does not. It is something else entirely. Do not ask me to speak of it. I can not give life to the details of her death. They feed off me enough already. It does not mean I don't love you or trust you or anything as rational as that. It means it is too painful. It means I can't bring sense to it myself. It means it is too real for me. So let me do what I must do with it. Let me stop the spinning and see what is left. I may never want to speak of it, so please respect that. That I tell you at all is something. It means I want you to know what it is that haunts me, to know why I don't sleep, to know if I don't reach out to you, it is not you. To know that grief is far from finite. To know and not be afraid of being close to me. Because I need you all more than ever to remind me of life, of living, of all that lies ahead. To know hope. To know that as each day passes I will see less of the shadow and more of the sun...