Illusion

Source - Thanks to my facebook friends for always posting things that I love.

I remember telling my husband “time moves way too fast. Life is flying by. I just want everything to slow down!”

Time came to a screeching halt on July 27^th, 2010.

After my husband died, time stood still.

It still does today.

Time moves so slow now. This winter has been horribly long. I swear it's been winter for 2 years now. The days, weeks and months feel like decades. I’ll be at work, pounding away on my keyboard, almost completely done with my work, and I’ll look at the time. I do a double take every time... usually I have only been at work for 2 hours. Feels like I have put a whole 8 hours in, plus some. Yet, I still have 6 hours to go.

With coming up on the 3 year anniversary, I have been thinking a lot about time.

It doesn't feel like it’s (almost) been 3 years. It feels like it’s been a million years.

In fact, the day he died, feels like it happened in a past life. There is no way that at 32 years old, I have been alive long enough for that to happen in this life.

Time has become an illusion. Some days I feel like I have lost my mind. My internal clock is broken. I check the time over and over. Check the calendar over and over. Thinking I have missed a year somewhere. I lose track of the months and years, because it feels like they have already happened.

I have cursed time. Cursed myself for wishing that time would slow down.

It feels like it will be a billion years before I will see my husband again.

That thought alone is devastating. How do I live the rest of my life in slow motion?

Just yesterday, I was on my hands and knees, crawling past the 31 month anniversary. Today I stood up, wiped off my bloody knees and hands, and suddenly the 32 month is staring me in the face. I can still turn around and see the 31 month mark, now I can see the 32 month mark at the same time.

Where did March go?

For the first time in 32 months, a month has flown by.

And it feels fabulous.

I want life and time to speed up. I want the days and nights to not be so damn long.

I want the 3 year anniversary to fly by.

I don’t want the upcoming months to drag. I just want to get the 3 year anniversary done and over with.

I want my days and weeks to fly by.

I want my normal, fast paced life, back.

So I write...

Dear time,

I am sorry about what I said. You are more than welcome to speed up now.

I am ready for it.

A bottle of shampoo

source

The minute I found out Jeremy was dead, time has never again made any sense to me or straightened itself out.

It's amazing how I can feel like seconds have gone by since I've last seen him, while at the same time feeling like it's been an eternity since I've heard his voice. Days get confused, milestones and memories start to overlap and get confusing, and worst of all - when time stops for you, it continues on for the rest of the world.

Lately, I've been feeling so far away from the day Jeremy died. Not him, but that day - so much life has happened in between since then that it feels light years away. I keep having flashbacks of that day while feeling so far removed from it. Like I've gotten used to this day to day without him that sometimes I hardly remember where I was before. It's a horrifying feeling.

But then I step in the shower and see a giant bottle of shampoo - one still remaining from the few that were bought mysteriously and stocked in my house after Jeremy died, and I realize that it wasn't that long ago he was still here. Or I walk past his binoculars on my dresser that still carry the scent of him and remember that he was just here. Or I see Faith wearing the shirt that Jer picked out for her that still fits here and know that not that much time has passed. Or I hear Caleb recall stories of his daddy because it wasn't that long ago.

It's a hard truth to face to know that time will continue to move forward with Jeremy. That each day we all get a little further from him, less people will think about him, and we will continue to grow and change without him. My only solace in that is knowing that one day further from him also means one more day closer to him. And no matter how far away he feels, and no matter how much time doesn't seem to make sense...he was just here.

Withdrawal

from here

Time is healing me, I suppose, but it's also taking me further and further away from Dave. Each day that passes is more time without the love, comfort and stability he so freely gave me. As the days pile up, I'm going more and more crazy for the comfort a loving spouse can bring. It's been so long since he's told me he loves me, wrapped his arms around me, made love to me, cuddled me. It's withdrawal and it seems to get worse as time goes on.

Of course it does. People aren't meant to go so long without those things. We're biologically programmed to need physical touch. And I don't mean the physical touch I can get from the massage therapist. I mean touch with mutual love involved. Most of us aren't meant to be alone. It's not a state we seek. We seek out another. We seek love and companionship.

It's been so long since I had that and so far the need for it has just grown. It's so frustrating that this desperate need corresponds to a time when I am without that kind of love. It has been taken from me.

I keep thinking of a scene from the movie Things We Lost in the Fire. Halle Berry's character's husband has just died and her husband's best friend comforts her. She asks him to get in bed with her and hold her exactly the way her husband held her just so she can fall asleep.

All my married girlfriends can rest assured that I'm not going to ask their husbands for that kind of a favor, but I can so relate to her need for that brand of comfort. It's not logical or conscious. It's brain stem stuff. There is no out-thinking it. It just is. And it seems to intensify as time stretches on.

I'm jealous of Halle's character in that scene, but I also imagine that in real life, it would still feel hollow and empty to have a simulation snuggle. There's no love, just need. Desperate need for comfort and being held. Maybe it's a short term fix, but in the long run, the loved one is still gone and maybe afterward it would feel even worse. The minute that person's no longer holding you, you have to face reality again. Face day to day life without a partner. Face the fact that they held you close, not out of romantic, mutual love, but out of a desire to ease your pain for a moment. It's a fake.

And the truth is, as great as it sounds and looks on screen, I know me and I know that I don't feel fully comfortable with touch unless there's a level of trust that's built over time. I also know with deep conviction, that I would rather be alone than be with someone who doesn't enrich my life. But guess what alone means? That biological need not being met.

This is just how it is. There isn't a way around it, only through it. But knowing that doesn't make this easier.