In December 2009 I posted about the death of my friend Ee and reflected on regret and what it meant to me. In May 2010 I followed this up with a post about his watch, which had been bequeathed to me by his widow, and the weight of it. On Wednesday I did a little thing; a small, inconsequential thing. I did a trifling thing, on the surface of it, and yet that thing, that insignificant action, weighed heavily, and was fraught and frightening and scared me silly.
I put on that watch. And I wore it for three days.
It is just a watch. A watch that belonged to a good friend, and still does, in a very real way, for all that he is gone. A watch that leaves me in tears when I think about what it means, and where it came from.
It is just a watch, and it was just the act of wearing it, and yet in both the object and the action lie a multitude of meanings and milestones and lessons.
I am still trying to work out what they are. I am not sure I can, or will be able to, nor do I ever think that the weight of it will ever diminish. But I am glad I wore it.