Every day I get through feels like a complete miracle.  It is a complete miracle that we have made it this far.  It has felt like an eternity to both of us and yet, so far, time has not proven to be much of a healer.  Time has been good and bad to me.  In the very early days, I was in shock, which allowed me to be distracted by visitors and conversation.  In the months immediately following the shiva, the horror of what had happened to my precious baby was with me during all waking and sleeping hours (and minutes, and seconds).  The 55 hours from hell played in my brain and flashed in front of my eyes all of the time.  It felt unbearable, like at any minute, I would just fall on the ground and die.  I actually wished I would because every movement I made felt like a puppeteer was pulling the strings on this body I recognized but that was totally disconnected to me.  Going to Catalina for our anniversary was out of this world.  A totally wasted experience that only made me feel more disconnected to myself and my child.  Now that Ted and I could probably actually use a weekend away, we are afraid of reliving our Catalina experience and so we put it off.  As time has passed, I feel more "grounded".  Only meaning, I recognize that this actually is my life and I don't get to just lay down and die.  The slideshow doesn't play all day long, but that is because I have learned to control it somewhat.  I only feel the horror for short periods of time each day - an hour here, an hour there.  Still, at least once a week, I step back in time and have full horror slide show days.  They suck.  Now, what we both feel is a more profound sadness.  Max is more and more in our past.  We are really not parents anymore.  We have nobody to take care of but ourselves and the dogs.  We miss everything about him and sometimes it takes an effort to remember all of the little details of this wonderful person that we love.  The absolute worst times of day for me are mornings and bedtime.  In the morning, I try to keep my eyes closed as long as possible, willing the day to go away.  Eventually, I drag myself out of bed and go through the motions of my day.  I have mixed feelings at bedtime.  I am in shock that I actually made it through another day but I am reluctant to go to sleep because a) I might have a nightmare, b) It is really hard for me to fall asleep and stay asleep and c) I know I am going to have to wake up and do the whole thing all over again.