It didn't amount to much, I remember the basic details, because the articles were brief. One little thing I didn't realize is that the long abandoned bench bases my photographer friend took pictures of in his local woods was about where they were found - I knew it happened somewhere back there but the woods are pretty sprawling, I didn't know in what section and that detail was lost on me the last I read them.
None of this matters though, in fact, it's quite morbid. But I realized something tonight: though my grief is old, it never goes away and passes through phases, I think my current phase is fear of them being forgotten. So much time has passed. And I spent a few years, after much of my healing came to pass, being happy not to think of them. But now, there's something of a panic if I don't think of them and then I do sudden crazy things like archival searches that at first appeared to confirm my irrational fears of them being forgotten.
If I'm afraid of them being forgotten now, what about when my dad's generation passes, I'll not have relatives coming up to me to reminisce with "Tommy's Girl." What about when I'm like 50 and 60 and there's just about no one with the memories but me? Ouch.
Dark thoughts like this tend to tell me I've stayed up too late and ought to chase myself to bed and to daylight and busy-mindedness.
I have begun to realise that my son, this grief, is a planet that orbits my life...occasionally being pulled in for a closer look...feel, voluntary and involuntarily. I appreciate hearing your personal experience of a longer time frame. I'm learning, I'm learning. Thank you.
Fresh details are very difficult...but I find I HAVE to know them. It seems to me that you recognise the crossover between that and the beast (of our minds) that waits for feeding...how we process (for want of a better word), how we extrapolate fears into our lives - as individuals. I don't know yet (what is yet?), how to really see what is helpful and what is not...a few glimpses here and there. Having reached a point of some kind of control (me managing pain instead of it managing me), I know that is both serves and does not serve me well....mostly I make good sail changes, but often end up with a face full of flapping canvas....poor wind predicitions. I am learning. Methinks that after a year of complete abandonment to grief, followed by some smoother sailing...my sense of 'control' is just an inner pat on the back of something that was simply part of a bigger rhythm that was always going to happen. But, that thought too, falls away and another moment presents and, I end up with another cup of tea...I think I have tea poisoning, actually.
I hope you found yourself coming to a place inside you that has found a home for your fears...a place where they are counteracted or buffered by loving people, whatever their age or relationship. I guess that what matters is that your dad and David are safe with you... and that you are safe with them and others.
If nothing else, give refuge to those in need.