Everyone is hell-bent on telling me that life moves on and I should too. Some of them don’t really understand that it’s too soon. First off, I hate it that life moves on. If I could turn back time, and there was still nothing I could do to save him, I’d want to be in the car with him. It’s just not right that we are all here and he is not. And then, i’m not even sure what moving on means!! Move on to what? I am living, eating, breathing, working. I’m not crying buckets. I am holding up as much as possible – what else do you want me to do?
Does it mean I should stop thinking about him? Well I can’t do that. I am sure forgetting a person is not what moving on means. In fact I am terrified of forgetting. Will there be a time when I can no longer see his face when I think about him? Will there be a time when I can’t see him dancing in the hall? Will there be a time when I can’t imagine his response to something? Will there be a time when I can’t recall his laugh? Will I forget his smell, his touch?
I don’t want that time to come! I don’t want to forget. Not one detail.
I know it’s going to be a losing battle, if not for lack of effort, just because of time’s passing. And knowing that doesn’t help. But I know even if the image fades, the memories won’t. There are just too many and they can last more than a lifetime – even my skin remembers! And I know if I ever meet him again, it will be like no time has passed at all.