how long is forever?

While reading my systematics homework on the theology of ordained ministry, I started thinking about the sermon I heard Mike preach at Still Small Voice. I realized that that weekend felt like a really long time ago - longer ago than other college events that happened before Still Small Voice. Suddenly, it feels like I've known Mike forever, like that weekend was forever ago - and I realized that was because that weekend was the last time I saw Emily alive. Until now, it's always felt like it couldn't possibly have been (1, 2, 3, 4) years since she died. Now, abruptly, it feels like it's been forever since she was alive. It's a very strange feeling, an odd adjustment to make. How did we go so quickly from Emily having been alive only yesterday to Emily having been gone for forever? I can't decide whether it feels like a betrayal to have gotten used to her being gone, or whether I'm just still so aware of her absence that at this point it's hard to remember life being any other way. I'm not sure. But it's not a comfortable place. I want to remember the joy of her life, not just the hole left by her death, and I want to remember that joy as part of my recent past, not ancient history.