I can’t hear it ticking but I know it’s there, my secret clock.
It must be hidden under the layers of my heart where the beats skipped the day I lost Leroy. That’s when it started running. At 11:15 pm on August 15th, 2008 this fragile time piece began recording time. Not just days and nights, it’s much more precise than that.
This clock keeps to itself, until I find myself in some sort of anniversary window. A time on the calendar that was a day or week or memory that my special clock doesn’t want me to forget. Sometimes I’ll feel like I’m off my game and I can’t figure out why. I don’t fall into a funk very often, but when I do, I’ve learned over these last 3 1/2 years that my secret clock is ticking louder than usual. Sure enough, the calendar will usually ring out the letters L-E-R-O-Y.
The other night a friend of mine, who is mourning the loss of her husband, told me she was having a few, really “rough days.” She couldn’t figure out what made them rougher than usual.
I pointed out it was six months since the death of her loved one. A real marker when you’re going through such a big loss.
Her secret clock is ticking too. She’ll learn to listen for it as time goes by.