Unfinished

I struggle with thinking too big.
My ideas are in a tornado in my brain. I have to get them out as quick as possible. Although making a list doesn't seem like the right way to talk about the awkwardness of life.
It feels like my grief. I have heard there are 7 stages of grief, and I thought my grief would move through those 7 stages in a linear fashion, I could check off each stage as I completed it, but no. It doesn't. It is like a massive bowl of overcooked spaghetti. Everything sticks together in huge sticky clumps, and you don't know how much of it you are going to get when you stick your fork in.
Starting in the middle of my story seems easier.
I struggle to finish anything since Killian died.
I will struggle to tell his story.
I don't think I can tell it in one piece.
I don't think it would do the people and events who were there justice.
I don't think it would honor Killian or God.
I don't think I can tell it in order.
This story is so much more than just Killian, but that is where this story starts, his death.