The body remembers

Our first steps to walking each other home, were to walk out of the hospital that night without him. I don’t remember leaving there.

As I started writing this, I noticed my words repeating that I don’t remember what happened.

The brain has a way of suppressing memories that are made during traumatic events. Even 25 years later the memories of that time mostly don’t exist in my brain. I’ve never been able to find them.

Memories are like quick flashes of color for me. They dart in and out. They have no beginning or ending.

Navy blue – It’s late I am aware of this

Red – A red stop light

Green – A hotel with no vacancy

Black – A call with my husband where I said the words “Kevin is dead”

Dark Blue – The feeling in the pit of my stomach, a deep ache and feeling of nausea that keep me tossing and turning all night.

Lights – Making one call the next day to tell a friend

Red – my parents going to Lana’s apartment to see her and to see what mess there was.

Brown and Red – The impound lot and my brothers car

Red – my mom crying saying she wished we didn’t clean up the car and his things (I don’t remember doing it, but I obviously did)

I am fighter and a peace keeper all in one, and was long before this traumatic night. As tears run down my cheeks right now, I know the body remembers what the mind keeps a secret. Maybe that is the fighter in me, maybe it’s the peace keeper, maybe it’s just a little of both.

White – the cemetery

White – a hug from the minister, her name is Heather, her voice is soothing, she stands with me as we look at the casket and she says – he is not there.

Blue – his friends that helped to walk him home. One that stands out to me, his head is hung down. One hand is holding his baseball cap, with the other hand he is holding his eyes with his thumb and finger like he is trying to hold his tears in.

Pink – flowers delivered from a friend who says – I just don’t know what to say

Brown – a basket of muffins from a friend who says – time is a great healer

These are my only memories of the first few weeks following Kevin’s final walk home. I know I travelled a number of miles, made a number of plans, walked a number of steps, hugged a lot of people and likely didn’t stop crying. But I don’t remember it.

I literally have the memory of an elephant lol. But I don’t remember how I got home from Saskatoon on the first day or much else until a few weeks, yes weeks later.

Each time I write for you and for me, I learn something. A flash that comes to my mind. Boys should be raised that it is ok to cry. If you have one, make sure he knows it’s ok to cry and he doesn’t have to hold his eyes to keep the tears in.

Humans, we have a limit we can carry. Even the fighters and peace keepers. Trauma is personal. It does not disappear. It permanently changes you. And you learn that’s ok, because it has to be.