Always fighting the storm, afraid to suffer the wound

So many of my conversations these days, both real and virtual, revolve around the concept of acceptance.

So here's my take on the whole acceptance thing.

I know that Jay will die, as everyone I know will die.  On that level, I have perfect acceptance of what's going to happen.

I am also in total denial that this could happen soon.  Even that reality that we're taking him next week into treatment that has only a ghost of a chance of succeeding, and that his tumor growth rate is such that if the treatment doesn't succeed he'll be dead sooner than later, can't penetrate that wall of denial.

I am angry beyond reason to lose the love of my life, even though I knew coming into this that was the most likely, nearly inevitable outcome.

The thought of living the rest of my life without Jay is a gaping wound in my heart and my soul, one which will never fully heal.

And yet ... I live every day in the acceptance that this could be the last good day we have together. I live every day in the acceptance that I will be in his life long after he is gone from it, helping to support his daughter and her mother, hopefully being part of his larger family. I live every day in the full knowledge that we're slowly, piece by piece, taking his life apart, planning for the time he will be gone so that those of us who are left don't have to do that work in grief and pain.

And yet again ... the wall of denial is strong, and it's utterly based in fear.

And I accept that.