I’ve
finished writing up my comments about J. and now I’m getting feedback from my
writing groups and friends. Now I am gathering together other comments from
friends who aren’t able to come to the memorial this week, and also putting
together what librarians call “ephemera,” materials like the newspaper clips my
husband wrote as a reporter, letters he wrote to friends that they saved,
family memorabilia, as well as a large matteboard of photographs.
While doing
all of this work, I felt myself slipping into a relationship with time rather
like that I felt when I was pregnant with my daughter, 44 years ago. It feels
like this period of time is outside the usual stream of minutes-hours-days
passing always in one direction. This “memorial time” feels static, not moving,
containing within it all the time J. and I were together but all lumped
together. One moment of time holding all
of our moments, which I could bury myself in if I chose.
I want to
be there... yet I don’t, I can’t. I can’t stop living, I have to keep moving
forward along with everyone else. Yet somehow I want to keep a connection to
that parallel memorial time. Just to touch it, touch him, now and then.
It’s the annual Slice of Life
Story Challenge, hosted by the wonderful people over at Two Writing Teachers! Every day this
month, hundreds of writers will be posting their stories. Head on over and
check out the other slices!
