I find myself almost obsessed now with car accidents. Every day, I search Google for crashes and death tolls. I search for Chevy Cobalts that caught on fire. I search for crash tests and journal articles about the biomechanics of thoracic trauma. I have considered requesting a copy of the coroner's report to see exactly what happened to my daughter in her last moments. I already know from the death certificate how she died. It just isn't enough. I want to know everything about it, from the second the car started sliding until the fire was put out and the bodies removed from the car. I want to see photos of the cars, the accident scene, the skid marks. I know it's natural at a time like this to feel as if I am going crazy, but ... I feel like I'm going crazy. It's been six weeks now and still none of this feels real. It's still as though I'm sleepwalking or having a very weird and unpleasant dream. It feels at once as though she never really left and as though she was really never here to begin with. Either her death is a nightmare I am trying to escape, or perhaps she was a beautiful dream that I am reluctant to wake from.

About ten or eleven years ago, I had a small tumor removed from my left breast. It was a benign cyst -- the kind they frequently don't even remove these days, since they can simply be drained by FNA. In the last year, I've developed what I believe is another benign cyst. Most breast lumps do turn out to be benign. The trouble is that I seem to be having supernatural difficulties getting in to the diagnostics clinic for a mammogram. I was horrified to learn that the clinic I sometimes go to downtown is booked until JULY. How crazy is that? I had an appointment two weeks ago at my regular clinic in Burien, but they canceled it on me at the last minute. Then I had one this Tuesday which I missed because I got off at the wrong bus stop. The next time they could schedule me was May 7, a week from Monday.

According to a Fox "news" article, there is "no doubt" that the Virginia Tech massacre was the work of Satan. The Houston Chronicle reports that President Bush is now urging people who "see somebody or know somebody who is exhibiting abnormal behavior, you do something about it, to suggest that somebody take a look."

I finally got the energy to log into Sarah's email account and hotmail had deactivated it and deleted all the email because it had not been logged into in over a month. Fuck hotmail.

I also logged into her myspace to clean out the spam. I can't believe the crap people leave in myspace comments. It feels like everything to do with Sarah now is holy and stupid phishing attempts posted in her myspace comments feel very much like a desecration. Actually, just logging into her account felt like a desecration. It changed the "last log in" date and that just felt so weird. I almost wish I hadn't done it. But, then I couldn't stand seeing things in her comments about growing a longer penis or getting a free target gift card. *sigh* No win situation.

Here we are today. The world is still turning. People are going to work. Children are going to school. Women are drinking martinis and eating chocolate chips right out of the bag. Or, maybe that last one is just me. (Don't worry, it was just one martini and half a bag of chips.)

I've been reading a book about surviving the sudden death of a loved one. It's so hard to come to terms with. I remember when my maternal grandmother was in the hospital for all those weeks. There was a lot of crying when she died. There was also a certain amount of relief. She was in the hospital for a long time. She wasn't that old, but she did live long enough to have great-grandchildren. We also got a chance to hold hands around her bedside and say goodbye.

Dreams are weird. I was hoping that I would have more dreams of Sarah, since that's really the only way I have of spending time with her now. But, last night I had some really bizarre dreams which involved (I kid you not), fishing poles, heart surgery performed on stage, and Michael Jackson, as well as my friend Michael G. who kept showing up every time someone said, "Michael," only to be told that we were talking about Michael Jackson.

One month ago today my daughter died. I have survived for one month without her. I never would have believed that could be possible. I never would have believed I could survive such a thing. People go on, don't they. How do we do it?

Kiyose is on his way to SF with his Morris team. One of his Morris teams. He asked if I wanted him to cancel, but I told him not to. But, today is hard.

I was working on some database dumps I made on March 16th. The first one was made at 11:37 local time, when everything was normal. The second was made at 15:37 when everything had changed, but I didn't know it yet. I remembered walking by the water that afternoon. We got off the bus a few stops early because it was a sunny day. I was thinking of calling Sarah and then the phone rang. I saw the number on the phone and thought (or maybe I said it out loud?) "It's Sarah." But, it wasn't Sarah. It was my dad. I knew right then that something terrible had happened. I sat down on the grass. He was crying. I shut down my brain so that all I could think about was that moment. When he finally got the words out about the "terrible accident," I thought about plane tickets and hospital beds. But, no hospital for my Sarah. "There were three Sarah's in the car. They were all killed, all three Sarahs." I shouted, "DEAD?" As if you could be killed but not be dead. But, his response left no questions. They were certainly dead. But, I didn't believe it. How could I believe something like that? I still have moments when I don't believe it. It's all like a bad dream.