It is so strange going through the day as if nothing has changed.
Bring the kids to school; work on the books; close on a house; bullshit with the real estate agent; answer the phone; meet the HVAC guy; talk to the guys doing demolition work on my houses; listen to the radio; read a snippet of a novel.
Then a story comes on NPR about a latino band based in Chicago that plays Led Zepplin covers in an Aztec musical style and all I can think of is how much Mike would have enjoyed that story and the music. Involuntary sobbing begins.
I am hit by the sledge hammer of reality–again. It never goes away.
I am functioning, getting things done, but am an empty shell, a ghost walking around in a life that no longer exists.
The sun shines. I am here. My children are here.
But I am hollow and empty, a relic of a whole person.