It’s been six weeks since Derek’s death. I understand that isn’t very long at all, but at the same time, it feels as though time is quickly slipping away. I hold onto that time because the longer it has been since his death, the longer it has been since his death. The longer it has been since I last talked to him. Last saw him. Last knew that he was alive. Last month when someone asked, I could say he died a week ago, two weeks ago, three weeks ago, a month ago. It seemed to legitimate my grief. As time goes on, as the distance grows, I feel like my grief should be lessening, but it often feels like it is getting worse. The first week sucked, sure, but then I returned home and jumped right back into life. Kids were back into daycare, a new semester had started at work with everything that comes with that, a new semester started at school with two upper level classes scheduled, and life went on. But it’s creeping back in. The grief. It is returning. In little places. Little times. Unexpected moments.
On Saturday we watched Brave with the kids, and one of the main messages is about fate and destiny. The subject of our shared tattoo and an important element of Derek’s life. I teared up immediately. It totally snuck up on me. No warning. No preface. Bang! Sorrow!Fuck off! I wasn’t ready for that. I wasn’t prepared. I didn’t have my defences in place. It hurt. I didn’t like that. (It sounds so juvenile, I know, but pain sucks.)
In my dresser drawer is a Christmas present from my other brother’s girlfriend; it’s a part for my bike to attach my GPS to the handlebars. It’s completely unrelated to Derek, yet every time I see it the feelings of grief quickly surface. It has nothing to do with Derek. Except it reminds me of Christmas, and Christmas was the last time I talked to Derek. It reminds me of Calgary. It reminds me of family. So it sits in my drawer, hidden under some socks. But as I use my socks it becomes visible again and I am assaulted by these feelings.
Time is a strange thing. One moment I feel like it has been so long already, how can it keep affecting my life like this? And the next moment I’m thinking that it really hasn’t been very long at all and of course it continues to screw with my life.
I guess it’s going to take awhile and I should just accept that, eh?