How can we ever buy a house, or move on in any way without Lev I don't know, but we do, and somehow the house feels right.
I think I understand the car association. It was the car we we using on our last trip together. It was the car that Lev and I sat in the front seats and chatted on our last evening together on the way to our campsite at Lake Louise. We listened to French tapes together on that trip, helping Lev to skip French 1 the next fall.
The next morning, Tony and Jaal rushed to the hospital in the car. Tony ripped the roof rack off it in a garage just after Lev died. Jaal drove us home in that car. A year later I cleaned out the French tapes from the glove and other maps from our trip. We spent a lot of money last year fixing that car because I could not give up on it. I understood.
I think I understand anyway. It seems somewhat random the things I am willing to part with.
I thought I understood the phone, that I know will need to be replaced in the foreseeable future. It's the phone that Lev was super excited about being my number one favorite. It's the phone I called and texted him on. It is a part of my life with Lev, and if I get a new phone he will never see it.
But, a couple days ago I woke up crying, really bawling, thinking I don't want a new phone. I just want Lev back.
I realized why the phone is so significant. Somehow it is tied with the trauma of that day, that terrible day. When I was seeing a counselor she explained to me that I was dealing with two different things- one is the trauma of those hours that morning and the other is the grief and loss of missing Lev.
But, back to the phone. That morning, as I bawled and soaked our sheets with my tears and snot I relived the phone's place in the trauma, moment by moment. When we realized Lev was having seizures in the tent we called 911 on the phone, hoping it worked in Canada. At the hospital, As I sat in the corner of the room where they were trying to save Lev I texted Tony on the phone, to tell him we arrived. I wanted to tell him to hurry, that it looked serious, but I was afraid they'd crash the car, so I resisted.
This next part I can't believe I did, but I did. I had the phone out to contact Tony and I thought Lev would appreciate a picture of all the people working on him in the hospital, he would be so proud of his recovery, feel so strong, so I took a picture of him on the table.
I would accidentally find this photo on my phone for months and eventually had to delete it, the image is burned in my mind plenty already.
I must admit that the thought that he might die hadn't occurred to me at the time, even though he was obviously in trauma, the helicopter EMTs were giving me directions to the hospital in Calvary, and I just didn't even consider for a moment that these might be his last.
The worst phone call I ever made was later that morning on that phone. And then there were more calls. All on that phone.
That phone was with me when I returned to Calgary with my mom, three days later, to view and cremate Lev.
Tony wasn't there, so I decided to take a picture with my phone and send it to him, so we could talk in the viewing room and he could see what I was seeing.
The phone was witness to it all. And the time to follow when I search for a photo I find ones of Lev, in the car, in the casket.
So, I understand now why the phone is so emotional for me, and now that I understand it, I think when it needs to be replaced I will probably be ready. Probably not ready to let go of the trauma, but ready to let go of the phone.
Rebecca
