5 years.

It’s so hard to imagine saying to people that Derek has been dead for 5 years come this November 2022. Feels like an eternity.

I turned 40 a few weeks ago. Derek never made it to see 40. He was 39.5 when he died. A part of me feels very guilty being alive past the age when he died. It’s a strange feeling now that I’m actually 40 and leading up to it I felt very sad. Even though he’s forever 39.5, he’s 44 in my eyes. He will always be my big brother. Surpassing him doesn’t seem right to me. When I’m 50, he’ll be 54. It’s the only way my brain can handle this, otherwise I will feel stuck and hopeless with no progress in healing.

Is healing even achievable with grief? I really don’t think so. Did Mary fully heal after she witnessed Jesus, her only son, hanging on a cross after being brutally tortured and murdered? Adjusting may be a better way to describe it. Trying to place yourself in a new way of life that still feels normal, as much as normal is no longer normal. Sometimes I’m all for the adjustment and other times I just don’t want to.

Maybe that’s why God gives us the ability to remember the past, to recollect the memories. The memories are helpful at times. Nothing is ever a guaranteed pick-me-up though. I haven’t been to the cemetery much since we moved further west, but I go now and I just feel a disconnect. That’s where the memories come in and they do help me cope.

My daughter asked me the other night how old we are when we die and go to Heaven. I said I’m not really sure because I’ve never been, but from what I’ve heard from religious scholars is that the age may not be the age when you die. I find that very compelling. What age is Derek in Heaven?