On Christmas Eve, we lost our Kai to what must have been a sudden, fatal heart attack. It was very fast, and completely devastating. Kai was a part of our lives for 15 years, and his presence is so thoroughly enmeshed in all of the physical spaces in this house, and those we cannot see within ourselves, that we cannot breathe without thinking of him.
So, why am I posting this here, on a blog about relationship and reflection in aphasia? I’m not entirely sure, except to say that in mourning his loss, I feel completely connected to everyone’s loss: of life, of love, of communication, of connection, of thought, of mind, of soul.
It is so easy to say that time will bring less pain, less thinking about the past, less longing for an anticipated future. Is this not what people with aphasia feel when they come to us at some point in their journey, and we stand, resolute in our feeling that things “can be better” in some ways, in some time?
What if we are wrong? What if things are not really improved as the months and years progress, but it is simply a matter of the web time spins between the event and our present state, that permits us to go on?
How long is the right amount of time to wait?
And how does this pain ever stop?