This morning, I woke up flying - last day of camp, hit the weekend running, back into Monday with a normal crash, a normal bang, a normal wallop. Normal, and wonderful because of that.
This hit me, hit us with a very abnormal wallop that no-one had been expecting.
I don't know what to say.
Survivor's guilt, sure, but mostly surprise that all the blubber that has been wallowing around the news over that last weeks has actually come, BANG, and hit here. BANG.
People I really care about are gone, and it is nobody's fault. There is no-one to blame. I find that hard to accept.
Life, despite fucking everything, goes on.
