Brain games

My brain has started to play a game. It's called “Remember when?”. Let's play, says my brain, as it teases me with a sweet memory of Caius (I am thinking about you turning to me in the morning, smiling and reaching for my face). I am so desperate to feel close to him today that I savour every last detail of the memory. Ok, I think, I'll give this game a shot. The rules are like this: my brain will dig deep and pull out a memory. It will be randomly chosen, and might come out when I least expect it. I can choose ones to remember whenever I like, but will also be prisoner to the paralyzing thoughts that continue to torture me. Once the game starts, it's a roll of the dice what will come up. My heart heavy with grief, I am hesitant to agree but my brain has already started the game.

Remember when we went to swimming lessons? Yes. We start in the main pool, singing songs with the others while slowly getting used to the water. I would hold you in close because sometimes it was too cold for you and you would start to shiver. We practice jumps off the edge and float with the flutter boards before moving to the warmer pool. We go around and around the pool singing more songs and practicing getting your face wet. 'Five little monkeys jumping on the bed. One fell off and bumped his head. The other little monkeys said roll over! roll over!'. We would smile at each other while I rolled you around to the words. Your skin was so sensitive that I would coat it with vaseline before we went into the pool which means the water sits on your skin in little beads. You play with Aevrie, exchanging babbles and reaching for the roses on her bathing suit. We follow the rubber ducks around and when you catch one you immediately put it in your mouth. I swish you around so you can feel the water move around your body.

Remember when we went to the Oregon Zoo? Yes. You were sleeping in the car so we drove around until we got lost waiting for you to wake up. It was cool out so we took turns carrying you to keep warm. We showed you bears and giraffes and leopards and flamingos and elephants. I told you how I rode one in Thailand once. We took photos. We took a break and ate French fries with the most delicious pickles your dad and I had ever tasted. We wandered around a bit more and found more animals. Your dad tried to show you the lions but you kept turning back to face the crowd looking back at you. You grinned at their faces, with your cheeky little two toothed smile. Typical Caius, we laughed.

Remember when we went to running club that Saturday morning? Yes. You were ready for your morning nap and fell asleep in your car seat in the minutes it took me to find my keys and put on my runners. You woke up soon after, the cool Spring air lightly touching your cheeks as we ran by the lake. We went to Peachland after, excited to see Grandma and Grandpa who were home from Arizona. You ate applesauce and showed off how well you could sit up. You played with us and then napped on the couch. We went home, and you sat in your office and played with dad. You were due for a nap but dad was making you laugh while he rolled on the big ball so we kept playing. Then your Nana and Bumpy came over to babysit. A great day filled with so much love. It was your last day, and it was perfect.

Ok brain, I say, that's enough for one day. Ah! but this is part of the rules, my brain reminds me. I will give you good when you want, but you have I have other memories for you too: remember when your life changed that morning? No. Remember when it all came crashing down- all your dreams for Caius, all your dreams of the future? No...no more. Remember when your parents came, tears running down their faces, unable to speak? Please, I beg. But I can't escape them. They come in waves and they come in strong. These memories also seem to enjoy the night, when my brain is too tired to fight them off. I am told that once I become stronger, I will be able to win this cruel game. I am told the bad memories won't be so vivid, that they will fade in time. Until then I continue to roll the dice, hoping it lands in my favour as my brain continues to play.


Chantal