16. Time

Time heals all wounds “they” say. but I would say in grief time is anything but your friend. I can’t believe I will ever be healed.

I mark time a thousand different ways that only remind me of what I have lost.

I had a friend who used to notice the clock at the time that coincided with the calendar date of a guy she liked…. 12:15 I think it was.

For me

7:00 AM when Bret told me he didn’t feel well and I brushed him off because I was rushed.

10:36 AM I texted Bret to complain that he didn't come with me.

1:15 PM the last time I texted Bret….And 4 o'clock when I found him dead. 5 o’clock when I called his daughter to tell her.

As I'm suffering through insomnia, my brain just won’t quit, and I’m still mostly sleeping on the couch two years later, the couch where Bret died.

I often wake up at 2 am and think this was the time Ian and I drove down to the hospital to spend our last 2 hours with Brian before four o’clock rolls around to remind me that was when they wheeled him down the hall to the operating room to harvest his organs.

I mark my birthday as a reminder of my circling the globe one more time to an age that neither one of them will see. As Ian hits all of his accomplishments throughout his life, getting his driver’s license, graduating high school, starting college, picking his major, his first passport… these are all life milestones that neither of them will mark. Time reminds me.

The days, months, and even minutes march by without them.

The car reminds me to change my oil. I remember the first time Bret changed the oil and told me to NEVER let anyone else do it - he would always take care of it. But now he won’t. I cried at the car place the first time someone else did it - they must have thought I was crazy.

I change my toothbrush twice a year…I do it on Bret's birthday and the day they both died. Convenient.

My taxes are due on Brian’s birthday.

Facebook likes to pop those reminders of events throughout the years that happened in your life and that they were here for, and in case I forgot, they’re no longer around.

People celebrate birthdays, anniversaries, milestones, date nights that I no longer celebrate.

For the last 5 years June has just emotionally crippled me like a weight. I feel it start on June 1st and by the 28th I am so numb with anxiety that the date rolls across me like the moon passes over the sun in an eclipse. I am blacked out.

Father’s Day? The last time Ian and I saw Brian “alive”. Remember? Yes

Remember him hooked up to all those machines and tubes and unconscious? Yes

Remember telling your son his father was dead? Yes

Do you remember holding your son in the hallway of the hospital as you both said your last goodbyes before they took him away? Yes

Remember going to mortuary to pick him up in a box? Yes.

Remember coming home to see Bret slumped over the couch knowing what you saw was really happening? Yes

Remember feeling his ribs crack under the weight of you doing CPR? Yes

Remember the paramedics telling you he had been gone for a while? Yes

Remember when they had Bret in the body bag and let you whisper you loved him one last time? Yes

Do you remember your son leaning over to whisper in his ear? Yes

Remember they zipped him up and took him out? Yes

Remember calling his daughter to tell her her father was dead? Yes

Remember the last time someone who loved you looked you in your eyes and really asked you how you are?…

Although Facebook will not be reminding me of these precious moments, I remember. Will I ever forget? No.