I’m forgetting little nuances – like vision going blurry. The calendar says nine months since he died. I am oblivious to time. I am obsessed with time. There are undertones to time; shades, degrees, fine distinctions. There are limits to the human mind and what it can recall; traces, hints, hazy imprints.
Take me back to the first of September before I ever used the word “accident” in every other sentence. Let me live the days in slow motion. Let me see his love in real life. Let me take a snapshot of 24 hours and memorize a day with him.
Take me back to the sixth of September on the day that life was abrasively interrupted. Let me live that rare, uncooked, rawest pain again if only to be close to my freshest memories of him. Don’t put the body into the ground. I am not done with him, yet. I need so many more days until I could ever fathom saying the word “done”. Life felt like it was just starting. Don’t tell me it has ended.
Take me back to the first of October or November or December. Let me grieve slower. I refuse to believe nine months have passed. Each day added to the grieving process multiplies my anxiety. I don’t want to say, “It’s been a year”. I don’t want to have to say, “I have accepted this.” Bring me back to denial. It was a much safer cushion.
There are small, isolated moments that I feel a tinge of normalcy in my spirit and it scares me. It feels pleasant and repulsive at the same time. Joy without Shawn is still joy. How can joy without Shawn be joy?
Love is still love. Calm is still calm. Life is still life.
Take me back to the time when I still believed all this.
