I've been coasting, pretending to be ok, "normal," at work.  My husband's right, I overwork myself so I don't have time to think about what has happened, if my mind is occupied, those thoughts can't get in.  I still think about Joe constantly, like he's on a long trip & one of these days he'll just show up at the door.  I think about things he loved & things he hated, what a cute little boy he was, but so insecure.  I have his Mickey Mouse from when he was 4.  I can't throw away any of his old stuff.  I remember things he would say that made me laugh, things we would joke around about.  Lobster Boy.  Mousey.  Zam Zam.  Patrick.  So I'm coasting along, working, remembering, feeling guilty because I'm not crying.  Then I noticed how I began to get that feeling back, of being on another plane from everyone else, seeing people all around me interacting with others, & I felt like I was no part of them.  they're acting like nothing has happened, but, hasn't the whole world changed?  A big piece of myself is gone.  Joe won't be coming to the door.  I will go to his grave & worship him, leave him sunflower seeds and take one of his cigarette butts I have saved & leave it there, clean his stone, rake the grass, plant some more, polish the flower urn.  There's my son.  There's my plot next to him.  & my husband's.  So I'm floating along, driving home from work, & for nothing, the tears came like a flood. I couldn't stop. Just kept driving & wiping my face.  That's what happens.  Sometimes it happens when I'm getting ready for bed, when I say my prayers and try to communicate with Joe.  It's kind of like being in a submarine, really, can't see where you're going, the ride is smooth, then suddenly, someone has just dropped a depth charge somewhere.  Turbulence.  then it smooths out & you ride along, unaware of anything, until it happens again.It's been 17 months.