5th of July

I don't know why I am getting this sinking feeling, like something is wrong. While doing yoga this morning, I began trying to imagine how it felt when Adam was alive, I was the mother of his adult self, and he was living life in Springfield, working at Little Saigon, fairly satisfied with his life, or so I thought. Maybe it was me that felt satisfied. He was independent, never asked for a thing, answered his phone 'usually,' answered texts and emails regularly, visited often enough. Never gave a clue when something was wrong, always a stoic and impermeable emotional front.

I also began obsessing about when I found out he was gone: 2:30, Tuesday, 2-2-2016.  A lot of twos and T's... that takes me to the place of thinking about how many days he lay there, when he shot himself, why he did it.

This is not a place I like to go.