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The comments, emails, texts, calls and visitors, even donations of Xanax... have been overwhelming.

I got the cop on the doorstep today. He didn't say anything. He looked at the ground with his hands together in front of him. Thank you, Officer Rose, Officer Swensen, Jennifer, Sheri, and the Lehi Police.

I woke up this morning, and for a split second I didn't know where I was. My mom and two of my sisters were curled up on the floor next to me. And I knew what it meant. The night before, I had begged them not to leave me alone for any minute. They stayed. It wasn't a dream. I was hoping I would wake up, and it would all be a bad dream. And it is, but I'm really living it. My mom sat up and knelt beside me. "So he's still dead mommy. He's still dead isn't he."

She didn't say anything, she just nodded. Tears poured over her cheeks.

I have to hear phrases like "recovering the bodies." I have to return phone calls to people who pleaded for updates, I'm overwhelmed. Not only can I not keep up, but I can't repeatedly break the news that reboyfriend in all his perfection and wonder, died in a plane crash this weekend. I can't make that phone call over and over and over. I can write one blog, though. I can type out one catharsis and hope that replaces all those calls I can't make.

I keep reaching for my damn phone to call him and cry about this worst day of my life. I keep having split-second thoughts where I, just for a second, think of how much better I will feel after I can talk about this horrible day to my boyfriend, to my best friend. That's right before I realize I can't ever do that again.

I'm working to keep food down. I dread going back home, where I will have to go through his closet. Deciding what to do with his things. I have to find a new place to live because I can't go back and live in the home that was ours, that still has his desk scattered with errands and post-its that need to be done today. His smell is on every towel (we shared) and his loofah (ew, we shared that too).

I can't believe I have to go to a funeral, and that it's for him. For them. He was seriously just barely here. My family faced this, sitting in a circle around me this morning after my weeping woke them up. They were forced to confirm that it was not a bad dream. They asked me to tell them what my favorite memory of Jed was. It broke my heart not to have an answer because there were so many memories. And it's hard to revisit them without him here to laugh about with me, add to them, and share his own.

I know I will never be the same. This blog, as those of you who've read it from Day 1, has chronicled nearly a year...of more loss and more bliss condensed into one small person's small life, than you could ever justifiably call fiction. Yet, you so wish that it were. So do I.

Friends I haven't heard from in years call me choking on their own sobs - even when the plane was only missing, but I think others had figure the truth out by then. My friends are sobbing with me. They are in shambles, with me.

The 12-hour span between Jamie calling me at 8:15 a.m. saying they couldn't find the men, and the moment at 8:15 p.m. when Shelley called me to confirm that they were not coming back, I was able to function somewhat. I kept holding to the hope that if they crashed, his studly toughness would have him crawling out, hobbling through the wilderness to find help, fixing everything.

I am surrounded by family, volunteering to make the calls I can't make over and over. If you hear from them and not me, please know it's because I'm in a little bit of a trance. Writing provides a rare moment of lucidity I'm holding onto before the truth sinks all the way in, and I'm no longer functional. If I didn't answer, it's because they had the common sense to turn my ringer off.

The length of life ahead of me without my best friend, looms ahead of me like back to back marathons (we all know I can't run more than 500 feet without being done). I can't email him or text him where he is. I can not give him the kids he begged me for. I hate the Utah Bride + Groom magazine I bought on Saturday to pick out ideas for the wedding he asked for 10 days ago, ignorant to the fact that he had been dead for an entire day when I bought it, with nobody in the world knowing what had already happened.

The phone rings and there is that split second where I wonder if it is him, then the blow of realizing that's impossible.

My family found me slumped on the ground last night, after The Call. I saw the tormented helplessness in their swollen eyes. They were like the tormented helplessness in the voices on the phone.

My 3 year old cousin Allie is pulling my 21-year-old sister Caitlin around on a leash. Caitlin sits. Stays. It's making me smile.

I read the forums in the motocross circuit, where friends of Jed logged on to say what a great guy he was. I know this. More than anyone. I know he was the best man in the world, with a good heart and the most potential.

I can't imagine how inappropriate it must seem that I am on my blog - usually set aside for cataloguing my embarrassing moments and irreverent opinions - the morning after finding that he was so violently ripped from my life. It feels cheap or insensitive. But this is soothing me, so if you found it distasteful, please know that sharing it with you, my online journal and those who have been sweet enough to follow it, is one of the very few things that bring me any sort of comfort. My love to you who read and comment, with so much sincerity.

If you don't know what happened: He and his brother Jordan and their dad, Ron, took off from Jerome Idaho at 11:00 a.m. Friday. The plane broke apart mid-are, most likely after a sharp right turn in violent weather. It wasn't unusual to go a couple of days without hearing from him on one of his adventures, but when his sister called me Monday morning, I knew something was very, very wrong. It took 12 hours from the first phone call to get the final one. It was the longest and most tortured 12 hours of my life. I anticipate worse is to come, but the day of not knowing was living everyone's worst nightmare.

How his mother and other family must be feeling right now, must be unspeakable. All three men in their family, gone with no goodbyes. What were their last thoughts? At noon on Friday, mine were certainly of him. They were of how many days were left till he got home. How will I ever stop this heaving of tears? I can't imagine it ever ending.

If you would like, you can read a little about what happened here, and follow some of the thoughts others are having about him. Bless you for reading.

http://www.vitalmx.com/forums/Moto-Related,20/Rest-in-Peace-Jed-Mingo,588913

http://www.motonews.com/index.php?option=com_fireboard&Itemid=4&func=view&catid=4&id=&id=153033&catid=4

http://www.newstin.com/tag/us/138220175

option=com_fireboard&Itemid=4&func=view&catid=4&id=&id=153033&catid=4