But the waves of grief move with a force of their own choosing; they do not obey the directives of my will. If it had been emotionally and spiritually possible for me to hold still for others during these past two years, I would have done it with a humble heart. Just as I would have given my life a thousand times to keep Corey on the planet, so would I give everything I have to nurture my two children who remain here in the physical; I would give my life a thousand times to take away their grief.
My apologies are in order not only because I have lacked the stamina to nurture others in their grief; I also have said things that caused them pain or discomfort, and there is no taking that back. I meant well--I thought I was doing what was best for them, thought I was proactively helping them with their grieving process, and, crazy as this sounds, I was convinced that I was acting under a directive from Corey--but my day of atonement has arrived along with my slowly clearing vision.
Since Corey catapulted from the planet on June 6, 2013, I have had several particularly intense and confusing avalanches of emotion--all happened when I was either physically ill or awake in the night grappling with the demons of death--when I emailed or texted something that caused the recipient pain. Essentially, I added to the grief. Those moments came over me like a drug, like a possession, to the point that within days or hours, I looked at what I had done and asked myself: What?!!! Did I really say that? Was that me? Where did that COME FROM?
Whatever it was, it came through me and I am responsible. I walk an emotional beam every moment, wielding the long balance bar to counter the unsteadiness of the ground beneath me, and those were moments in which I fell off the beam and knocked a few innocent people in the head with the wooden bar as I plummeted down.