Sometimes it just hits me like a ton of bricks that I’ll never see Sarah again. That’s it, the story’s done, there’s no more to discover or find out. It’s not like a documentary where new and startling evidence of Sarah will be presented, or new clues and new theories of Sarah get developed. I wonder if that’s why I watch documentaries so much? Am I hoping for some Grand Theory of Sarah? Segments from doctors, metaphysicists, and other experts to explain how a baby came into my life at age 41 (me, not the baby), took over everything, then disappeared and will never be seen again?
I think I’m actually doing pretty well right now. I’m crying less and keeping busy more. I have fewer moments of panic and what I think of as “disassociation.” Is it disassociation or dissociation? Okay, I just googled and it’s dissociation. Disassociation must be some legal process.
I don’t think I actually dissociate, because I always know who I am and where I am, am oriented to time and place. What I’m talking about are those moments where it just hits me that Sarah is dead, and I feel shattered and panicky and have a hard time believing it. Sarah is dead? She’s been dead for a year? How can that possibly be true?
These moments are very hard and I’m never sure when one will hit me. Rather than being like a documentary, it feels like the ending of The Sopranos (and I’m sorry, I may be spoiling this for a friend of mine who is just recently watching this show) where everything just cuts off and goes black and you are left wondering if there was a problem with your TV. What happened? There’s nothing more? What? How could there be nothing else?
When this happens I try to ground myself in reality. I look over at mundane things in the room and just name them to myself. Purple vase. Coffee mug. Paperback book. It seems to center me and distract me. I started doing this when Max and I were watching Better Call Saul a couple of months ago. If you watched it, you might remember the character of Saul’s brother Chuck, who had an anxiety-based fear of electricity. He used to calm himself by looking at natural objects when his anxiety was ramping up and naming them. I thought that looked like a good technique, so I tried it for myself. I don’t look for natural objects, I just look for objects that are mundane and real, that won’t disappear, to ground me in the now.
The First Year Without Sarah 