Aiden Harper

Grief isn't linear

Aiden

After having lunch with my family on Sunday, I took Eden home. She seemed quiet on the car ride home. So, I let it be.

Monday arrived with another session with Conner. I sat in his office across from him.

"Have you read the book I gave you?"

"I read the first chapter."

"But you didn't read the second chapter?"

"No."

Conner nodded and jotted notes on his pad. "Aiden, the second chapter talks about how grief isn't linear. While there are five stages, they don't come in order and happen when we least expect them. Something simple as teabags can bring our grief to the surface."

"How would teabags bring forth grief?"

"It's the action behind it. The person remembers the memory attached to the item without realizing it."

I pondered what Conner said. "Why would I grieve for someone who caused their death?"

"Because grief isn't simple. It's very complex and affects everyone differently. Have you considered you're angry because the other person was reckless?"

"Wouldn't you be?"

"Elaborate."

"Claire and I fought. She chose to get behind the wheel and run that stop sign. She was so jealous about me talking to another girl she risked her life. Why would she do that?" I shook my head in disbelief.

"It happens when people aren't acting rationally. Claire had Othello disorder. It skewered her thoughts, making her rationalize her jealousy by accusing you of flirting with another girl."

"But I wasn't."

"It doesn't matter to the person afflicted with the disorder."

I sat in the chair and thought about what Conner said. "So, it wouldn't have mattered what I did? Claire would always accuse me of doing things I wasn't doing because she was sick?"

Conner shook his head. "No, it wouldn't have mattered."

The air whooshed from my chest at that moment. I felt guilty over an accident I hadn't caused for two years.

"Aiden?"

I stood up and paced before my anger exploded. I grabbed a chair and threw it across the room in a rage as it slammed against the wall and smashed to smithereens. Conner moved quickly from his chair, and the office door whipped open. He held his hand out to stop Jayden from coming near me. I grabbed a candy dish and whipped it at the wall before sweeping my arms across Conner's desk. The items on his desk crashed to the floor.

If I got my hands on items, I destroyed them until my anger dispersed and my chest heaved. I dropped to the ground, gripped the back of my head, and rocked. I spent two years living with guilt that I caused that accident. Two fucking years!

I couldn't even talk about it. Diego pushed me, but I shut down. My family worried about me, but I shut them out. It took my grandfather to force me into therapy to confront the guilt. With it also came the anger.

"Aiden," Conner spoke in a soft voice.

I lifted my gaze to him as tears dripped from my eyes.