#1 FOIL

First in, last out.  FOIL. 
"I don't have a name. I don't know what to do. I am not the person I used to be..."
That all resonates with me.  The numbness of not knowing who I am now since Sage has died.  The way grief has robbed me of the ability to process thought, feel things normally, function as a human being.  It has stollen my identity and I don't know who to be.  And it makes me kind of fucking angry because I finally felt like I was beginning to know who I was.  And now... I feel like a stranger to myself.  I feel flat.  I feel empty and apathetic and scared and sad and sick and horrified and so fucking lonely for my little girl in my arms. 

First. Outer.  Inner.  Last. 

Outer. The first thing I did was get functional on the outside.  I needed a place for Zach to be safe and comfortable and supported at home.  I needed to be able to provide for him.  I needed to get my shit together so I was doing better self-care than I had been in those first days, weeks (months... I don't know) that were such a blur.  

Inner. I had to turn my attention to my own healing.  I spent some time doing a variety of things to try to tend to my own grief internally.  Hospice counseling, therapy, a Grief Recovery Workshop, meditation, medication... 

Last.  And now what.  We have done all of the initial "things" that we are supposed to.  We are living through this year of "firsts".  I am still not able to see pictures of Sage, or to glance into their room sometimes, or wake up in the morning and mentally inventory my day without one of those short question words popping into my head: HOW? WHY? or simply... NO! A thousand times... the same thing.  I know there will never be an answer.   It continues to be a shock to my system sometimes.  New realizations every day.  New "we will nevers..."  I can't dwell on them.  This is a different time and a different life I am leading now.  Irrevocably changed on May 1st 2018.  And as we approach the days leading up to that anniversary... I am silently reliving those days again.