The in-between. It's what I call the time between first waking and actually being awake and cognizant. I relish the in-between every morning, even though it doesn't last very long. It's a time when nothing is really wrong, nothing is really right, everything is a little fuzzy.
Shane has been dead for 6 days. And for the past 6 mornings, for those few fleeting seconds in the in-between, I am in a world where Shane is alive. Far away and in a dangerous place, but alive and connected and eventually coming home. For a few seconds each morning, I feel Shane's presence in the in-between and everything is going to be alright.
And then, as quickly as it came, the in-between goes. Something yanks me back to reality, the in-between becomes distant and the realization of Shane's death becomes palpable.
I wish I could find a way to stay in that place for just a few seconds longer. I'm afraid of the morning that I wake up and he is not in the in-between.
But for now, he is there. And it is enough.