Seven Years

Seven years ago today.  Eleven and a half weeks.  Confirmation.  The (last) baby died.

Time is a different entity when it comes to The Big Stuff.  It coalesces into a combination of forever ago and just yesterday all in the same moment.

I still frequently access the unspeakable grief. Hmmm, that makes it sound like a decision.  It’s not.  Like a muscle spasm that can come out of nowhere, I still walk right into the wall.  But in terms of the memories, I experience many of them almost like remembering a movie, floating up above the experience as an onlooker.

I think the feeling of being removed from the immediacy of the grief is what recovery is actually about.  “Time heals all wounds” is too tidy.  Let me not mince words here:  it’s a crock of sh!t.

Time changes our ability to access every single detail.  And like waking from a dream, there are moments of being half in one world and half in another.  Grief in the rearview mirror is like that.  The edges are blurred, the intensity is muted.  And then there are times when the kaleidoscope rotates in such a way that everything clicks and is crystal clear once again.  When objects in that mirror are much, much closer than they appear.

Seven years ago today, I began a new life.  One that was forever changed, one that left me a different person.  Sure we can say that all major life events change us, that’s the way of life.

It’s not the life I wanted.  Yet here I am, seven years in, and I just want to acknowledge the moment and somehow whisper across the divide.

I love you.  I’ll see you later.  I love you.

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