Back to Florida this week

Although I haven't really spoken/written about all this, there have been some legal implications of the incident that took Aimee's life. While I am still not really at liberty to discuss that part of this situation, I will say that on Friday I have to go back to Miami for a deposition. Now get ready for the understatement of the year:

I am not looking forward to it.

Although I considered going to back to Florida last year, possibly to do something to commemorate the one year anniversary of Aimee's death, I eventually thought better of it. I just have no desire to set foot back in the state of Florida, period. Yet I will be forced to back, and very soon.

I have a mixture of feelings about this trip in general, but the part I may most be dreading is going through that airport again. I remember my two trips through there in December 2011 very clearly:

December 12, 2011. We're exhausted, just having come off a red eye flight from Seattle. But we're also excited. As Donna, Aimee, Rowan and I make our way to baggage claim and then to the rental car counter, we're feeling an odd mixture of crankiness (from lack of real sleep) and anticipation of the week ahead. The weather is sunny and warm, and the whole vacation is ahead of us. As we begin to discuss a plan for getting breakfast, we settle into the joy of knowing it's going to be a fantastic trip...

December 20, 2011. Donna, Rowan, and I retrace our steps from eight days previous in reverse, and in somber silence. The pain is so heavy and thick it sits on us with a tangible weight on our shoulders, and threatens to smother each of us. Aimee's suitcase, filled with her clothes, makeup, jewelry, shampoo, and other personal effects, drags behind me like a case of lead. We see places in the airport that we'd been just eight short days before - the bench at the car rental counter where everyone waited for me to get the car, the escalator where Rowan got scared and blocked it until I came back up - and the huge difference in mood punches me in the stomach. Far worse than that, I can't shake this terrible guilt of leaving Florida without Aimee, like a soldier who's left a fallen comrade behind to be taken by the enemy. I feel like a failure as a husband and a father, even though logic tells me that's not the case. 

Getting through that airport and getting on the plane home was very likely one of the hardest things I've ever done, and it took every ounce of strength I had.

Now I have to go back through it again.

I'm not staying in Florida for long, that's for sure. I fly in on Thursday, my deposition is on Friday, and I fly out again Friday night. I'd sure appreciate your thoughts and prayers.