Time Travelling

I’m waking up this morning, jet lagged, and time confused. We flew to Ontario last Saturday, travelling three hours ahead in time zones, not realizing that the clocks were falling back that night as well. So, when we arrived at my father’s house in Ottawa, I literally, had no idea what time it was: midnight? 1 am? 11pm?

My phone will pick up the occasional signal from 34000 ft , changing the time and letting the odd text through as we pass over major cities. Because of this, I’m usually confused as to how far into the flight we actually are. I think I prefer the days before electronics, where I could set my watch ahead to match where we were going, or leave it at the time zone we left behind. It was so much easier. I was a flight attendant and I flew all over Europe, North America and the Middle East this way : sometimes zigzagging across the Atlantic and back, up to 3 times a week and I never struggled from jet lag. But clearly, that is not the case today.

We got back to the west coast last night at supper time, and our bodies had adjusted to eastern Canada time : we were in bed by 7:45, and asleep by 8:30. So of course, it only makes sense that 4 am seemed like the right time to wake up this morning. No matter how hard I tried to go back to sleep and no matter how dark the sky, there was no way I was falling back to sleep.

As I mentioned before, the clocks went back last week. Since we weren’t home, the clocks in the house weren’t changed, so as I was making my tea this morning, the clock on the stove was an hour ahead of what was showing on my watch and my phone since they automatically adjust. Suffice it to say, my brain is in WTF mode.

But I was looking forward to coming home yesterday, as hard as it was to leave Sam’s grave 5000 kms behind me. I’m having my tattoo for Sam finished today and I am excited for it. I’m actually eager for the pain as it’s different than the emotional pain that engulfs my mind day after day. The feeling of the needle tearing through the delicate underside of my wrist, is now my preferred pain. How fucked up is that? This, is where my grief is leading me to today : confusion and pain is my life now.

Randy just came in the door from picking up a weeks worth of mail and there was two packages for me. I often order things online and completely forget about them. Sam once had a good laugh about that when I gave him my password to use my Amazon Prime. He was in shock at how many things I had ordered through Amazon. Sadly, my ADHD makes me impulsive so I have a bit of an issue with buying things that I often really don’t need. I’ve kind of stopped that since Sam died though. Anyway, it was a “little bit” exciting opening two boxes addressed to me: I can not lie. The first one, was a part I ordered eons ago for my vacuum cleaner ( it’s a Dyson so it’s worth fixing) : not so exciting but at least I can stop carrying around duct tape to temp fix it when I want to vacuum. But the second box, was a gift from an organization that works with the military to helps family members after the death of a loved one. They are called HOPE, and they sent me a big thick comfortable blanket and an assortment of knick knacks. The blanket is draped over my legs now, and, it’s thickness and soft texture, is oddly, comforting. I foresee spilling a lot of tears over it as the weeks and months go by.

I have traveled close to 10000 kms in the past week. And I’m home now, resting under this blanket ; sipping my second cup of tea, and thinking about what I’m going to wear today when I go to get my tattoo. My suitcase is sitting behind me in the hallway needing to be unpacked, laundered, and repacked ( yes, I said repacked). The Board of Inquiry interviews take place this week, and although I spent most of my 6 hours of flying yesterday writing out my statement, I need to go over it to check for spelling errors, grammatical errors and just make sure that it flows. I’ve asked Randy and my three surviving children to read over it and they all said it’s good and not to change a thing. Both Matt and Randy commented that it made them feel like they were in Sam’s shoes. And I know it made them cry. I just hope I don’t cry when I stand before the committee and read it.

So on Monday, I fly back to Ontario (Trenton via Toronto). I am flying 3 time zones ahead again. But I’ll have a nice fresh tattoo and I will be taking a stand for my son.

This week,

Published by iamtherealjude

I am a mother of four beautiful grown children. My son Sam: My youngest boy, lost his fight with his demons on Aug 19, 2021. This blog is a dedication to my sweet young man who I will forever look for in the beauty of this world until my last breath.

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