My mom texted me about a week ago, “17 months today.” I thought to myself, “17 months, are you kidding me?! I can’t believe I’m not even keeping track anymore.”
This was a depressing moment for me.
It hasn’t even been a year and a half and I’ve STOPPED keeping track.
I think the main reason for that is because I CAN NOT EVEN IMAGINE going on for another 40+ years keeping count of the months. If 17 months feels like 5 years, what will 10 years feel like? What about 15 & 20??? This, to me, is the most devastating part.
You know when you keep tracking of you pregnancy and when people ask you say, “I’m at 32 weeks,” or my child is now “21 months old”? Keeping tabs on LIFE is WAY different than keeping tabs on DEATH. With life, you can’t wait for your baby’s 1st birthday or for your toddler’s first day of preschool. With death, you don’t want the time to pass because you feel less close and it’s a bigger gap of time since you saw that person alive.
I have to share this story because it’s proof that DEATH is not the end.
I was driving with my daughter the Saturday before Easter to the store. I noticed a car in front of me with a sticker on the top left hand corner that said “Kelly Lake” – “huh, I’ve never heard of such a lake before.” So I kept driving a bit and then I looked down at their license plate. It read “DLW 48.” DLW are Derek’s exact initials! So the car that caught my eye because of my name had my brother’s name also on it. THIS IS NOT A COINCIDENCE!
I tend to get these little messages when I’m thinking about Derek a lot. I happened to be thinking about him given it was Easter weekend and usually we’d see him and catch up. I’m not sure what the messages mean. It could be confirmation from him that he acknowledges it’s a time when I’m thinking about him most. Or because a family holiday is coming up and he knows it’s going to be hard for my family and me. Or that he wants me to pray for him. Or that he’s okay. Or all or none of the above.
One thing I know for sure is that this kind of stuff is REAL, it has MEANING, and as mysterious as it appears, it will all make sense one day.
Grieving Sibling Loss 