The body remembers

...even when our minds forget

I referenced it in an earlier post, but I find it astounding that my body recalled it was coming up-on the death-versary just because it was February. For me, in my family, there are a lot of death dates to commemorate and birthdays of the departed loved ones. Sometimes some come and go without as much notice as others.

But, of course, because of the suicides with Jeremie and with my dad, I hold these death anniversaries differently. In my body.

February is a long, cold, ugh month. And I am here in Minnesota longing desperately for spring. It’s March and we’re still in the twenties with an abundance of snow.

I—my mind and body—even unconsciously—associate February with Jeremie’s death.

In late October, I remember looking around at all the barren, dead-looking trees and realizing just how symbolic it all seemed, in our collective state of perpetual shock. My father lost his life to depression and alcoholism on October 29th.

My cousin, Nancy, put a positive spin on it when she delivered a eulogy about my dad, commemorating his life. We were gathering on All Saints day.

That’s true. That’s nice, the symbolism and significance.

But those months—October and February—those specific time periods, settle deep within my bones. I feel them. Somehow I know when that time is approaching.

Even now, three years later, I didn’t recall my beloved mother’s death (that was heart-breaking but a relief because she was suffering and ready to go), but that one was also on her sister’s birthday, which I think an interesting work of providence.

But I recalled Jeremie’s. Maybe it was the pictures I was shown about him. Maybe not.

The body tells stories. It holds trauma and grief.

It knows stuff if we listen and pay attention to it.

This is why Dr. Bessel van de Kolk entitled the book, The Body Keeps Score, when discussing PTSD.

It certainly, certainly does.