do not recommend

When Enzo died, Keirsey was not speaking to me. I don't remember why. I'm sure at the time, it was huge. Insurmountable. A "we won't recover from this" situation. 

That year on Christmas, she came to the house, texted Enzo to come outside so she could say hi, then left without a word. It fucking wrecked me. I cried for two days. That Christmas, we originally planned a trip, but had to cancel last minute because Brad and I got pretty sick. Like, can barely move to the bathroom kind of sick.

We were better by Christmas but in no shape to go on a week long trip, which made the whole holiday feel disappointing and bare anyway. 

Nothing changed much after that Christmas, Keirsey and were barely speaking in February. Yet that night, when I had to call her, when I told her Enzo was dead, there were no hurt feelings between us. There was no "should she come over?" Instantly, she was driving to us.

It's never been the same between us. That phone call changed our relationship in deep, unfathomable ways. Most of these changes have been good.  We're closer. We talk. We work at our relationship. We remember that Christmas but we don't talk about it. We both understand that our last Christmas holiday with Enzo is scared. We can't change that. But we also no longer let things get between us. 

"It's not worth it. Arguments don't matter."

That was Keirsey's reply when we finally did talk about the disagreement we were having at the time. It became so pointless so instantly. 

Now, 17 months later, she's moving back here to come work with us in our business. While I'm so grateful, so thankful for this, I also know what it cost us to get here. I can't help but think of the loss we suffered to reach this place. We will never be whole again. Our family is broken, hurt, learning to live differently. Each grieving in our own way, but we are no longer the same family we were. I see us, trying to make the best of it, working to heal our trauma. We know what happens when you don't heal. And none of us can bare that thought. So we work harder at being whole, an impossible goal we know.

The Bitch Barn has helped. It's a place where we can talk neutrally, speaking openly and hear the other person, not just listening to reply. Because the barn was originally Enzo's idea, it's like he's with us, a silent and unseen witness to our mending and growth. I don't know for sure, but it feels like he's so proud of us. I know I am, but it still feels like too big of a sacrifice; to lose someone we love so much to bring healing. I don't recommend this method at all.