Another throw back Thursday post. This one I still feel pretty strongly. Maybe always will.
One of the worst things for me in this whole deal (aside from losing him. That’s by far worse than anything else) is the unanswered questions.
What was he thinking? What made him get to this point NOW? Who had he been talking to?
Those, yes. For sure. But also… What’s the last thing he listened to? Was he scared? Was he comfortable? What’s the last thing he watched? Was he relieved? Did he smile?
There are so many. And for the most part, we’ll never know the answers. We won’t know when he decided the day for sure. We won’t know if he thought of us. We won’t know whether he knew his family would take me in like they did. We will never know.
So one of the therapists I have talked to so far, told me that I need to decide what to believe. That because we’ll never know, I need to take what makes sense to me, what makes me feel best, and believe that.
I don’t know if I have it in me to do that. I don’t know if I am the type of person who can just believe something because it makes me feel good. I need evidence. I need proof. I need at least some real indication.
So I look at what I know. And it’s seeming like that’s less and less every day.
Maybe I was just the annoying woman who wouldn’t leave him alone. But no. I can’t believe that, because he told me time and again I was his best friend. But then, he seemed to tell many people many things. Maybe he told someone else the very same thing.
See? Circles. Spinning round and round and each revolution takes me farther from any sort of confidence in what I thought I knew.
I hate unanswered questions.
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