Marking Time

7 weeks.

In the early days of grief marking time is significant. It tethers us to a painful event which dramatically shifted our world. And it acknowledges the longing associated with the before.

Before and After.

Both Waverly and Oliver died on Wednesday mornings. Just like the months after her death, I find myself anticipating the number ticking up Tuesday night as I climb into bed. I replay the hours before his death. The smells - a candle my friend brought because I had forgotten one and she knows my scent obsession with memory. The sounds of Oliver's inconsistent breaths. The heaviness of my eyelids longing to close after many sleepless nights. The weight of Oliver's hand in mine. And as I play out the hours of Tuesday into Wednesday I inevitably come to the moment. The after.


kelly said…
time takes on a whole new dimension with grief. keep writing friend. may it be a balm to your soul.
Naomi Skena said…
I didn't realize it was a Wednesday morning for them both. That is heavy. One of my friend called those final hours a time when the veil is thin - between life and death, earth and heaven, the before and the tsunami of grief coming after. It was a holy ground and I can see why your mind is drawn back. I am so sorry, Shannon. Love you.
I just feel like telling you that I'm going to nursing school as a phase two of my life. I'm seriously considering becoming a hospice nurse and your family have inspired me to consider entering that sacred profession.
Shannon said…
Messy & Wonderful - thank you for sharing. What a fantastic choice of professions.

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