Passage of Time

A few years after CJ had passed away, I was in a store, checking out. I was just chatting with the salesperson, and the conversation turned to my purple streak in my hair. I explained to her that it was purple in memory of my son, who passed away.

She of course said she was sorry, and then asked me, “How long ago did he die?”

Her question made me pause. First, I wondered why she asked. I know it was not a malicious question, but it was odd. Second, I had to pull that info out of my brain, because I try to hide from it. The knowledge of the passing days hurts, so I don’t consciously think about them.

I didn’t want to say how long it had been. I felt she would downplay my grief, even if it was just in her mind, if she knew how long it had been. So, I hedged the truth.

After I left, I got angry. I was angry at myself. Angry at my answer.

This would have been a perfect opportunity for teaching about grief. I should have confronted her question and responded with this.

“It feels both like it was yesterday and like it has been forever at the same time. I miss him every day.”

My hair is colored purple in honour of CJ. My social media feed is full of memories and pictures, in honour of CJ. Each day I bring CJ into my conversation or life in some way, keeping his memory alive.

I work hard to do all of this in a positive way, but there is no denying the grief. I am on a grief journey and always will be.

The simple fact...it doesn’t matter how long it’s been; I miss him every day.