Uncomfortably Numb

I'm not sure which stage of grief I'm at,  and I'm not altogether sure how normal my current behaviour is.  I'd prefer to think that as there is absolutely no rule book, this is just my way.  Alternatively I'm a fruit loop and may require intervention at some unknown point in the future.   I feel uncomfortably numb.  It's not that I don't feel anything - quite the opposite.  I think of Freddie whenever my brain isn't completely focused in on something important (like overtaking a lorry on the motorway on a very windy day).  But when I do think of him, I don't cry like I did.   I do quite often feel like I'm at the top of the big dipper about to plunge into insanity but it stops before the freefall.  Do I consciously stop it?  When I feel like that,  I roll up my sleeves and charge into all things Freddie.  I delve into his photo album, I dash down to this amazing florists I've found where they do wildflower bouquets, I sing, I talk about it him to the unfortunate person who probably only came over for a quick cuppa (bad luck, you're in it for the long haul now).  I don't know whether this is masking or coping.  I don't know whether my ability to get though each day feeling far more positive than negative is, in fact, complete denial.   The worry of this makes me uncomfortable but yet somehow unmoved.   I feel as though I am travelling down a road that has a dangerous bend coming up, I know it's coming but I don't know when, and I also don't know what's around the corner.  On the one hand it could be a breakdown, on the other just more crying.  I look at his pictures and see my furry monkey and feel pride and longing.  He was a little king who now rules another world.  Our little scrappy-do who fought his hardest against a shit hand and in the process taught me peace on a level I can barely yet understand.   What I am feeling is something I've never experienced in my life so far.   Aside from the grief and indescribable pain,  my son has taught me to let go and stop finding solutions for everything.   I don't think I am in denial, I think I am out in the open watching a comet streak by.  The brightest, most beautiful comet that can't stay, and I'm heartbroken that it passes quickly but I'm in awe of what it leaves behind.  I'm cold and I haven't got a coat, but I'm learning not to shiver.  This trail of glowing dust, this shroud of sparkling particles.  Now I'm crying.  Now I know it's real.