I measure time differently these days. Events go into two categories: before Jeff died (BJD)and after Jeff died (AJD). Often I have trouble discerning the two. I feel like that awful day in the parking lot of the doctor's office was so long ago and yet, I feel as if I only talked to Jeff a few days, sometimes hours ago.
I find it difficult to discard anything from before Jeff died. Especially anything with his handwriting on it. I find small pieces of paper with phone numbers of people I don't know and I put them away in a box of 'Jeff stuff'...I don't know why but I don't want to forget anything. How he wrote his name, the shape of his letters, etc. Little miniscule things are now bigs things. The things I thought were big before mean nothing.
I have trouble recycling the newspapers dated before March 25th. I wonder if he read them. I lament that I read these stories and learned about all these ridiculous events completely ignorant to the fact that my life was about to change so dramatically.
Time is both savoured and despised now. I want to remember everything the kids and I do together as I am the only keeper of the memories now. I try to hang onto the feeling that Jeff 'just left'. The time I had with him is special and sacred. But I hate that time consistently ticks away the seconds that are pulling me farther from the last time I touched him, the last time we talked, the last time we held each other. But I guess time also brings me closer to finding the answer to where he has gone..and if he is anywhere.
The Firehouse Chronicles – The Finale
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