Time keeps on Moving

Last night, as we lay in bed, the light just turned out, Kevin said to me that soon it will be as long with his mom like this as like she was when he was a child.

Soon, there will be more memories of his mom with a fragile emotional and mental state than what he remembers her being like when he was a kid. Soon, those memories will be harder and harder to access as the new ones form and take over.

And what do you say to that? This is the first real grief he ever had. His grandparents either died when he was a baby or are still living. This is the first year marker he's ever had. He never even moved houses as a kid, he never changed schools. This is it.

And I think that's what makes it harder. His defining moment as a teenager was his mom's breakdown and the subsequent divorce.

Me, I've had other grief, but the year when I realized I had been alive longer without my maternal grandpa than with. That was hard. And I was a kid when he died.

The hard part is when that flip is thrown. When the thing you hate has now taken over.