The Clock Ticks Loudly But The Hands Aren’t Moving

(cont. from 2-16-2017)

 

It has been nineteen years since we’ve seen him but the tears unexpectedly came swiftly as Detective Marc said those words. It felt like only yesterday that he sat on my couch looking out the window as we spoke of trivial matters. I still don’t know if my tears were  because if this “body” is him,  he’ll never sit there again, we’ll never talk again ,trivial matters or otherwise, or if they are partially caused because I hadn’t let myself fully understand the depth of  the report from my Doctor, until today, which began with words like spinal cord, surgery,  immediately, and every other statement that  followed  spoke of “severe,” such as severe impingement and sever deterioration. Since getting the MRI report back and since Detective Marc called, my head has been in a fog. Nothing is making sense and I’m feeling totally nauseous.   It’s as if time is standing still while the old clock on the mantel is yelling profanities at me with every strike.

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