Four days after entry two
Dear diary,
People ponder death on a daily basis. Death is an accepted part of life. We, as humans, know that death will happen to us one day and therefore try to live our life to the fullest. We accept the notion of death. . .until inky, black death seeps its way into our lives. When someone we know or love dies, we do not accept death. In fact, we go to many different lengths not to accept that death is real, that our loved one is truly dead. We might go through shock, denial, anger, grief. . .any number of things to ensure that we do not have to accept death is now a part of our lives.
My parents flew to Roswell yesterday to visit Jim and to help with the funeral preparations. Mikey and I are doing our best to take care of the house in their absence. We figure that with the tragic event that has just occurred to their dear friend, the least we could do is keep the house clean.
I think I am going through shock or denial. I am having a hard time believing that Michelle Valenti is truly dead. I remember her so vividly now. Every time I came over to play with Kyle, she would be there with a smile on her face offering me cookies. Her hair was always clean and shiny, smelling of apples. The thing I remember most clearly, though, is how full of life she was. She was always active and happy. She never did anything without a smile on her face.
Michael only met Mrs. Valenti for a few moments during the adoption process, so he is not going through much grief. He has, however, been great through this. He is always there to catch me when I fall, and he has been doing all of the housework.
I've been trying to focus on my schoolwork, but it is too hard. Every time I look at a math problem or attempt a history question, the only thing that comes to mind is Michelle Valenti's face and her shiny hair. It is like she exists in everything, every molecule of air, every piece of paper, every cookie, every person on the street. Her essence cries out to me from even the most mundane of objects.
The nightmares have returned, the horribly gruesome ones from my childhood. I don't know how to explain them, exactly. All I can tell you is there is a man in them, oh what a man! And my brother, Mikey is in them; only his name isn't Michael, it is Rath something or other. And, the weirdest thing is that the dreams don't take place on Earth, they take place somewhere else, on another planet! Anyway, the dreams started the night of the news of Mrs. Valenti's death. So far, since the first returned nightmare, I have never slept alone. I have always somehow found myself asleep, snuggled into Mikey's embrace.
I guess that is my way of dealing with death, blocking it out until REM (Rapid Eye Movement) sleep. You know, I used to think I was a very calm person, a person who was always in control and reasonable. Then my acceptance of death was reversed, and I began to deny the death of my friend's mother and my parent's friend. Death. . .it's a funny thing.
Trying to cope,
Liz