Everyone copes with a death of a loved one differently; as for me, I avoid funerals unless it's absolutely necessary that I attend. Don't try to comfort me because it makes me cry all the harder. The worst possible thing someone could say to me is, "He's in a better place now." I understand that, but my question is "How can a healthy, vibrant 23-year old be in a better place. This is supposed to be the prime of his life."
With that said, I am keeping this blog brief. Ron and I spent most waking, non-working hours together until Christmas break when I returned home for the holidays. Because it meant we would be away from one another for three long weeks, Ron decided to fly to Billings the day after Christmas to spend New Year's with me and my family.
I was about to leave for the airport because his flight would be arriving shortly. The call came from his mother; Ron had been hit by a speeding car at the airport and had died instantly. No one is supposed to die before they even board the plane. Shattered and destroyed is what I had become at that very moment.
My parents offered to fly me back to school immediately, but I told them, "I'm done. I'm not ever going back." And I didn't.
With the holidays behind me and nothing but tears inside me, my parents tried their best to comfort me. They encouraged me to transfer back to Eastern Montana College to complete my junior year. But I didn't.
At this point in my life, I didn't want to do anything. It was just so unfair. Life was so unfair. My two loves were gone. Hadn't I endured enough pain...first the physical pain and now the emotional pain.
To be continued...
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