Every time I close my eyes, I see Christina's face. Only it's not her face, because Christina is one the happiest people I've ever met. That face, that grief, it can't belong to her. Please, God, it just can't!
I can't sleep, because every time I close my eyes, I see Christina's face, then I see myself in her shoes, and my stomach twists and my eyes snap open. I panic, I want to jump out of my skin.
I think of Chris, and I want to scream. It's unfair. It's impossible! How can someone full of enough life for 10 people be wiped out so suddenly?

It's such an odd feeling to be simultaneously relieved (it wasn't Michael) and devastated. Anybody, please (almost) anybody but Chris.
And what can I do? Russia is closer to Christina than I am.
I alternately want to be alone in the house, then want to get out of the house. I want to be around a friend, then want to get away from them.

The anxiety had finally gone away. I was settling down and getting used to Michael being gone. Now I'm absolutely terrified. It's only a month in. Now the anxiety is back tenfold, compounded with grief. Impossible grief. Maybe that sounds strange coming from someone who lost her mother at age 7, and lost her nephew on his first birthday, but it's just so...impossible. How will she keep going? I'm afraid for her, I'm afraid for Michael, I'm afraid for myself. I haven't been so afraid in a very, very long time.
I know it was just an accident, and one that probably wouldn't have happened in an Apache, but I can't help it, I'm just flipping the fuck out. Doesn't matter right now that Chicago is more dangerous than Iraq. That doesn't help what I'm feeling. What everyone that knew him is feeling...

The best of friends, the best of people, the best of what love is supposed to be, torn apart. Michael's friends. My friends. I have the honor of calling them that.

You were the best of what people can be, Christian. I wish I could give you back to her, to all of us. I wish this was all just a mistake. Bureaucratic slip.

This can't be real. It just can't be.


I hate that this has led to my own selfish fear for Michael. I can't see her without seeing what could be myself.

The Lord bless you and keep you, Christian.

We all love you.