One foot in November

Time stopped for me in the hospital room. And every moment that has passed since that day has seemed different, surreal in some way. As if I'm existing in a dream-like state. Not apart from reality. I know all to well the reality of the last five months. But perhaps that is it. Maybe it is too much reality. Like those crazy reality shows (that I refuse to watch) where it's almost as if they cross some line where reality becomes fantasy drama. Yeah. That's what's it's like. I'm living in this dramatic movie right now. Except I'm in the part that gets skipped over because of time restraints. You know what I'm talking about. The part of the story that's after the "climax" but before the "resolution".
Examples. Like in Beaches. After Hillary dies and Victoria moves in with Cici, the next scene is those two at a concert letting the audience know that everything turned out alright. Or in Steel Magnolias, after the funeral they skip to Easter and as they say, "life goes on". There isn't time in the movie to show how the characters come to terms with what happened, so they just skip right from the heartbreak to the healing. But reality isn't drama. In reality, you have to live every second of every day. And that's the problem.
Time stopped for me, but the rest of the world kept right on moving. I feel behind. Like I have no idea what is going on outside of my head. And I feel alone. Not in the sense that I have no one to talk to. My friends are as good as they come (you know who you are!) But alone in that no one is in my head with me. Alone in that life goes on, everyday people move forward on their journey, while mine seems to have slowed down to a crawl. I feel like I'm being left in the world's dust. I still relive that day with my daughter over and over in my head. I still have the nurses face plastered in my mind as she walked away with my daughter for the last time. I would give anything for it to be Oct. 30th again. And yet the world moves on and I with it, even if it is unwillingly.
There is no cure for this pain. Though tears bring daily relief. There is no instruction manual, no time-plan, no answers. Just the challenge to figure out how to continue on. How to somehow keep up with this world and everyone in it. And how at the same time to just be where I am at this very moment. Even if I have one foot in November and one in October.