This post is more a chain of thoughts written at the Husbear. I post it here because maybe it will help me. I’ve had a difficult time over the last few hours especially, and had to remove myself from the public because I started crying all of a sudden and couldn’t stop.

While I cannot truly imagine what it would be like living without you, it’s something I have been forced to think about with Tory’s death. And while there have been several close calls from accidents you’ve had in the past that made me briefly ponder it, this situation pretty much ripped the door off of the hinges for me. And now it’s all I have been able to think about since that phone call early Sunday morning.

Tory’s death made me realize that I’ve never had anyone this close to me die before. While I’ve had all my grandparents die, I’ve never lost anyone who was—by choice—this close of a friend to me. Friend isn’t an accurate word. Let’s go with “family”. Because that’s what Tory and Dwayne are. They’re our family. Which is part of why this stays the focus of my thoughts. I feel like I’ve lost a brother. And it hurts immensely.

I still feel the shock of you flying out of bed when Dwayne called early Sunday morning. I don’t even remember the words you spoke into the phone as you talked to Dwayne. I just remember thinking this had to be some sort of joke to get us to New Orleans sooner so we could be with them. And then I could see it in your face—that look of disbelief—and how physically sick I felt instantly. Then holding you close to me, selfishly, and then thinking that was something Dwayne would never be able to do again with Tory.

Besides just the mental and physical shock of it, there’s also all the what-ifs I would think about. Especially if it was an untimely and unexpected death like Tory’s. Could something have been done to mitigate it? What if I had done one thing instead of another? What if I had made you go to the doctor instead of not? Yes, I know it’s the “what-if game”, but these are still thoughts I would have. Because you know that’s how my brain is wired.

And then thinking this occurred in a strange town. Not knowing anyone. What if that was the case for me? It would be bad enough if it occurred back home, but in some place where I had no familiarity at all? And no one that I knew? Luckily we were able to get there in an hour or so to be with Dwayne, but what if that hadn’t been the case?

Having to be the bearer of bad news. When we called other friends to let them know. The Facebook post. And how many times have we—and will we—get asked by people who haven’t heard yet: “Hey, where’s Tory and Dwayne?” the very thing that drove me to write this post. Yes, the reply gets a little rote sounding after a bit, but it still has to be said and dealt with each time someone asks. I can’t imagine what it’s like for Dwayne to have to answer the “Where’s Tory?” question.

Then there is all the things I don’t want to have to think about: funeral arrangements; financial and business matters. Yes, we can pre-plan for some of that, and we will revisit that when we get home. But it’s still something that seems awkward to have to focus on in the moment. Especially when there’s already a deep hole in your heart.

All the memories. Just looking at your toothbrush, or a rock, or the pets, or the smell of you on your pillow would all be a reminder of you. And the photographs and digital memories that exist in places like Facebook. I hear with time that gets easier to deal with. But I imagine it’s something that will always tear a hole in my heart.

There are times I can’t stop crying, and times I’m totally angry. I just know I hurt for Dwayne right now.

And myself, as selfish as that sounds.