According to the psychology textbooks, there are these stages of grief that you are supposed to go through. And they are supposed to go in some kind of an order and then you get to the other side and they are all done and you are maybe done with grief.
That’s not how it works.
I’m pretty sure I’ve gone through all the stages about 96 times each at this point. But there is one that keeps coming back.
I keep trying to bargain with the universe to make the past different. I keep offering other realities in hopes that maybe this one will change. If we’d left on time. If we’d taken the other car. If Jason had driven. If I hadn’t taken that wrong turn. If we’d both been injured and spread the total damage out between us instead. (I know I was injured, but it wasn’t that bad. (It was that bad. I could have died too. I know this, but compared to Jason, it was nothing. I lived.))
If Jason had only been paralyzed.
If he’d been paralyzed instead of killed, we could make that work. It would have been hard. I’m sure there would have been fights and tears and depression. But we would have figured it out, because that’s how we were together. I would have converted the smaller unit to be fully accessible to him. He could have done at least parts of his job remotely for a while, and then using a mobility aid like a wheelchair. He probably wouldn’t have had as nice a butt, but his shoulders would have been amazing from that wheelchair. We could have done acro with the wheelchair and it would have been badass. We would have built a new kind of life and it would have been ours, together.
I keep bargaining with the universe to make that true. Look at the impact we could have had. He wouldn’t have shied away from showing disability as sexy and badass. Universe, isn’t that worth seeing? We would have shown the world what love looks like across life shattering changes. Isn’t that worth seeing? Can’t that be the reality, instead of this bullshit in which he is dead? Please?
I know it won’t change. But I keep coming back the bargaining stage. He had so much more potential. We had so much more potential.