My sister, without whom I wouldn't be writing this because I would still be looking for the title for the damned blog--thanks!, anyway, my sister told me today that my life isn't about dealing. I am not a "dealer" she said, I am a fixer. To quote her: "it's not your way to go about life thinking that there's nothing you can do."
Normally she would be right.
But. But I think that this time she is wrong. The parameters of the possible, of what I can do, have changed. There is no way to fix this. For anyone. All I can do is try to deal. If I am lucky, in a productive way.
To be fair, having been one of my rocks in the hours, days, and weeks after A died, she doesn't actually think this can be fixed, or that I think I can fix it. And we agreed that we are talking about the same thing. So what this means, apparently, is that semantics have suddenly become important to me. On this point I want to be precise. About this I want no confusion. This can't be fixed.