Most of the time, I’m fine. But sometimes, wham, it’s like I’ve been punched in the abdomin. And there doesn’t seem to be a consistant trigger.

Sure, it makes sense that seeing a police car would take me back. I very clearly remember how the two police cars were parked, not very close to the curb, in front of my mom’s house. But I don’t react whenever I see a police car. OTOH, the police car does not have to be parked for me to react either.

The other day, I was walking Lily. We were in front of the rec center, and WHAM! I was filled with sadness and anger and fear and questions. I’ve been reading a grief book, and it says tears are okay. So I cried. Lily didn’t notice, and neither did anyone else. I was consumed with anguish and filled with the question “Why?”

Oh, Diego.