Grief took me walking again. We walked on the South Rim Trail named for Annie Bidwell. Grief led me and Dottie through grass the color of butter and underneath trees still dotted with the leaves confused by a 45-degree morning and an 80-degree afternoon. I imagined the leaves asking if they should be dying or thriving, but that is probably projecting. We stopped at Bear Hole and sat down as cyclists gathered themselves to finish their ride. Bear Hole looked different from the South side of the canyon. Smaller. I wondered if that is because of the slope of the canyon or because there was no fog shrouding the sky, just us and the autumnal sun. Probably both or something else completely. You would know the answer.

As I walked, I wondered out loud if you were walking with me and tears fell down my face as I registered profound anxiety at not knowing the answer. A runner gave me a look of pity as she passed me. Well… are you? Are you here with me? Does my wondering increase the possibility of you walking alongside me? I mean, we think therefore we are… right?

If Grief takes me on walks, Depression keeps adding weight to the ball shackled to my ankles. I cannot tell where Grief ends and Depression begins. They run alongside each other taking turns punching me in the stomach. Since Grammy died, I am back in the wing of the Grief Palace I cannot map as it hides from me in total darkness, no distinction amidst the shadows. It is not suicidal here, but it is dark. I have been in this part of the Palace before, and I do not like it here. It comes with dreams of children dying, people chasing me, and torture. I dreamt two nights ago that I lived in the world where the acceptable punishment for a child stealing food was nailing a cabinet door to their head until the nails fell out. Dark.

My body feels like it is straddling the precipice of panic and I am spending more time managing my stress with focused, mindful breathing, through exercise, and through dissociation. I want to drink and have more weed because I want to feel anything else but this fire in my chest, pain in my hips, and the knot in my stomach. I want relief from overwhelming dread. I do not drink and have more weed because I know it will not actually make me feel better and my mostly sober brain feels judgement over “doing the right thing”. I feel like I will always live in this wing of the Grief Palace and the Part of me who knows I will escape this place is so fatigued from trying to rationalize and remember for everyone else. Today, I watched Twisters and understood the moment a background character let go of what was keeping them from being blown away. I may not be in the middle of a tornado, but I am exhausted. How much longer do I need to hold on?

I found you on our dining room floor 359 days ago. I somehow managed to get myself through 359 days of you not being here. And now I have to get through the next two weeks.

I keep repeating the plan to myself, so I know I have one. You will get through this, Natalie. You know how.. You’re already doing it.

Important Dates:

• Saturday, November 8^th will be one year since I found you on the floor of our dining room, did CPR, rode in an ambulance, and my life changed.
• Monday, November 10^th will be one year since the neurosurgeon confirmed your brain was not feeling pain.
• Tuesday, November 11^th will be one year since they declared you and we gave your body to organ donation.
• Thursday, November 13^th I have therapy in Sacramento. Hailey and Tootie get into town.
• Friday, November 14^th is Grammy’s funeral.
• Sunday, November 16^th will be one year since your Hero Walk.

I am off from work from the 7^th until the 16^th because I cannot imagine having to hold other people when I can barely hold myself. I did not make plans for any specific days because I do not know what my body will need as it remembers learning you died. My only idea for an activity is to sort and organize mementos and the things that belonged to you. I figure this will help me honor you, keep me busy, and give me space to remember the parts of us I want to. The parts of you I love so much. I also plan to go for walks with Dottie if the weather allows it. And to sleep.

I want to ask someone to wake me up when this is all over.

But it never will be.

Shut up, Betty.