Noticing the Passing of Time
Frost is something that we take notice of when it arrives to our Southern California neighborhood. Many winters come and go without so much as an icy car windshield at year’s end when many places in our hemisphere are covered in snow.
It was a balmy April night when he left our home for the last time. I was barefoot when I walked out with him as the careful conductors carried his body to the van; me wondering if we were making them nervous with our miniature procession in the wee hours of the morning. I remember thinking how careful they were being with him. Our beloved. How they performed their task with care and dignity.
In astronomical terms, the seasons “started” another cycle on March 20, 5:37 am . . . the year that he died.
It has been:
251 days
6025 hours
361515 minutes
21690959 seconds
Not yet a year ago.
This year.
The year about to turn to 2022.
Standing at the doorway of a mile-marker in time.
How I perceive time has always been a bit of a challenge for me. It seems my inner clock works differently than the clock of the world.
Since Dan died, the sensation of time is both heightened and dulled.
How can that be?
The mystery of time–both harsh and magical.
TIME AND TIMELESS
Time is unbending. When the clock turns, it presents a reality that is not malleable. A hard stop.
Yet our minds can visit past, present, and future just.like.that.
My heart sees the photo above and imagines Dan as the shadow within the beautiful image of the passing of time, seasons, rotations of the earth, sun, and planets. The timeless container that holds us, our loved ones, our memories . . . perhaps even our hopes and dreams.
He is missing from our life, and yet in so many ways still with us.
May it be so.
May it always be so.
