You watch time move on and, as you think about Jenn, your relationship with her, her death, you expect to gain a better understanding of what happened. It is as if you are waiting for some kind of epiphany that will suddenly make sense out of her death. But that hasn't happened yet and you doubt it will. You now see the wisdom of something someone once said about the survivors of those who committed suicide. They compared losing someone close to suicide to losing an arm. Sure, you learn to live without it, but you still only have one arm.
Life keeps going, but you are forever changed by having Jenn in your life and, sadly, even more so through losing her. You don't forget her. Stupid little things remind you of her. A song you hear on the radio, a movie you see. The memories come at unexpected times and of different events. You will suddenly find yourself remembering some moment with her when you were both utterly silly. Two minutes later you are remembering how you found out about her death or remembering the kind of carpeting that the funeral home had.
You find yourself looking through the yearbook trying to remember more of the good times you had with her. You see the joy and promise in that small, generic-yet-slightly-personalized message inscribed inside. You see her signature and wonder what you wrote to her. You do little things to remind yourself how special she was to you, as though if you didn't you might somehow forget her. You put up a picture, set up a website, tell stories to friends who knew her, write tales about her, or get a tattoo. Anything to remember her even though you know that you would never forget her.
Dreams become important to you. They allow you to remember and relive things which you had forgotten. They also let you have the illusion of being able to talk to her again, to say all those things that you always wanted to say to her but didn't. Why would you have said those things to her before? You knew she would always be around. Of course, after the joyful visitation dream, you inevitably wake up and she is always gone. You get to mourn all over again.
In the end, though, you know that the dreams, the reminders, nothing you do will ever bring her back. And so it goes, day after day. People will tell you that it gets easier with time, and they are right, in a manner of speaking. The pain never goes away, you just get used to the constant ache.
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You watch time move on and, as you think about Jenn, your relationship with her, her death, you expect to gain a better understanding of what happened. It is as if you are waiting for some kind of epiphany that will suddenly make sense out of her death. But that hasn't happened yet and you doubt it will. You now see the wisdom of something someone once said about the survivors of those who committed suicide. They compared losing someone close to suicide to losing an arm. Sure, you learn to live without it, but you still only have one arm. Life keeps going, but you are forever changed by having Jenn in your life and, sadly, even more so through losing her. You don't forget her. Stupid little things remind you of her. A song you hear on the radio, a movie you see. The memories come at unexpected times and of different events. You will suddenly find yourself remembering some moment with her when you were both utterly silly. Two minutes later you are remembering how you found out about her death or remembering the kind of carpeting that the funeral home had.
You find yourself looking through the yearbook trying to remember more of the good times you had with her. You see the joy and promise in that small, generic-yet-slightly-personalized message inscribed inside. You see her signature and wonder what you wrote to her. You do little things to remind yourself how special she was to you, as though if you didn't you might somehow forget her. You put up a picture, set up a website, tell stories to friends who knew her, write tales about her, or get a tattoo. Anything to remember her even though you know that you would never forget her.
Dreams become important to you. They allow you to remember and relive things which you had forgotten. They also let you have the illusion of being able to talk to her again, to say all those things that you always wanted to say to her but didn't. Why would you have said those things to her before? You knew she would always be around. Of course, after the joyful visitation dream, you inevitably wake up and she is always gone. You get to mourn all over again.
In the end, though, you know that the dreams, the reminders, nothing you do will ever bring her back. And so it goes, day after day. People will tell you that it gets easier with time, and they are right, in a manner of speaking. The pain never goes away, you just get used to the constant ache.
Main Page
Jennifer's Life
Jennifer's Death
Jennifer's Funeral Service
Jennifer's Grave
Reactions
Links