I find my focus returning time and again to Casey. She dabs at her eyes but keeps her gaze on me, subtly nodding at me, encouraging me. This is exactly what she’s always done for me. It’sourthing, one of our “work spouse” habits. Whether we were working on a casetogether, in a depo or in court, or giving a speech now as a politician, she’ll nod at me just like this, assuring me I’m on track and doing well. If she gives me a slight shake of her head, it’s a signal for me to change course.
In this moment, I love my children and would die for them, but Casey is my rock.
And I know Ellen would want it that way. Not just for my sake, but for Casey’s, too.To give her a focus besides her grief.
I cannot get through this without her.
I cannotprocessthis without her.
I don’t think I’ve truly begun contemplating the depths of my loss yet. While a castaway I was too busy surviving and trying to keep Susa alive. In the hospital, I was too busy recovering, answering questions, surrounded by people.
Now that I’m home, I’ve been surrounded by my childrenand deluged with my new responsibilities.
I’m normally a very private man when it comes to my personal life. My kids, obviously, get to see one side of Dad, and Ellen another. Casey is literally the only other person in my life who got to see me with my defenses down, because I trusted her. Not even my two younger brothers, who I love with all my heart, get to see me the way Case does.
In thismoment, my grief is supposed to be on public display. I’m supposed to let the state—hell, the whole world—see me laid bare.
I…can’t.
It’s not even because I’m a control freak. It’s because this ismine, and my family’s pain, to a certain extent.
The world wasn’t married to Ellen—she wasmine.
I’m not just a husband morning his wife.
I’m a Master mourning his slave.
Everything I did throughoutour life together centered my girl in my universe, kept me tethered to her.
Without that gravitational pull to keep me in orbit, I feel…adrift.
Lost.
I have no fucking clue how I’m supposed to survive without her.
Something Susa said—ironically, not even a few hours before we were rescued—really hits home right now. Something she said Carter once told her.
Dying’s easy.
Surviving’s harder.
I had no idea what thatreallymeant until this very moment.
This makes it publicly…final.
I’m a widower.
But even worse?
Part of me is still adrift and drowning, and I don’t know how much longer I can keep treading water before I let the black depths suck me down forever.
