I know that the concept of time moving fast isnt exactly anything new. The idea of “where did the time go?” is something that people talk about all of the …. well, all of the time. But in my last month of being 50 years old, (I will turn 51 in September), for some reason, this past year, not only have I been thinking about the concept of time moving too fast, I have also been feeling it. Something about being 50 years old – it turns the mind into this giant mixing bowl of thoughts: thoughts about the purpose of life, impending death, people growing old, people getting sick, who do I want to spend my precious time with, what things help me to feel joy, creating more moments of pure living, and other deep sort of things.

Ive always been the type of person who is bored out of my mind by small talk and “water-cooler conversation”, but that multiplied further after Don’s death, and it seems to have quadrupled even FURTHER after turning 50. I don’t want to spend time arguing on Facebook with people who just have zero intelligence, and I don’t want to sit around talking about the weather or the traffic you encountered on your weekend getaway. Sure, it can be mentioned in conversation, but there are people out there who actually spend HOURS talking about this sort of pointless drivel. Not for me. I want to be around people who make me laugh like crazy, people I can learn from and grow with, and people who have been through some serious shit in life and understand the importance of being in the moment and enjoying one another. I love people, but I really love my people. The people that I have chosen to have in my life, and to keep in my life – I really love them, and when Im in their presence, I want to soak it all in, and marinate in it, and really be aware of its brilliance and fragility. Its a weird feeling to be both “in the moment” while simultaneously feeling that moment slipping away, but that is what loss does. It turns your mind and heart into this jumble of empathy, compassion, and emotion. Or, at least, that is what loss has done for me. I feel keenly aware of the fragility of things – of everything – and I live my life accordingly. Im not interested in silly arguments or spending time together but not really, or exchanging in dialogue that is covered in phony or pointless or just not nice. We don’t have time for that.

I was talking with my brother yesterday, on the phone. It was his birthday, and he is now 48. He is a divorced dad, and one of the very best dads out there in the world, truly. Every waking moment that he is not at work, he is with his kids. He goes to EVERY game, every dance recital, hosts sleepovers, talks with them and jokes with them, is “hands-on” with all of it, and actually truly loves hanging out with them. He has told me this multiple times. He LOVES being with his kids, to the point where he has put his own life/possible relationships on the back burner, because he would rather spend more time with his children.

They are getting older now, and he is feeling the time slipping away, and feeling them wanting to be with their friends more and with him less. And then here I am – my husband and I bought a house that is less than 10 minutes from my brothers house – we are the next town over, right on the town line. There have been multiple times I have invited him, and my husband has invited him over – both with the kids and without – and he never comes. His schedule is just crazy busy with work, the kids, and all of the practices and activities they do and so many things. When he actually has free time, he likes to just rest, because it doesnt happen often. Its not unusual to see him outside at 10 pm at night mowing his lawn, because thats the only time he has to do it.

So even though I knew it was a defeating statement, yesterday when I called to wish him a happy birthday, I told him once again: “we will be around tomorrow hanging by the pool if you wanna come by, you know you are always invited and Id love to see you.” He sighed and said: “Yeah I know. We are just getting home from camping and I gotta get the kids back to their mom. There’s just no time. One of these days Ill make it over there. I dont know when, but I will.”

But the thing is – he probably won’t. We have been here for one year, and so far, he has only been here a handful of times, for family gatherings. Just him and the kids coming over on their own – it happened one time in a year. This is not something Im angry about, or even disappointed about, really. Its more of a sadness, and also an understanding of the reality.

I have shared with him recently my thoughts about this, and told him how I pictured it being different, that we would stop over at each others houses and things like that, in our adult years. He apologized, and said “Im weird. Im kind of a loner. And Im just so busy and so tired. I will probably regret it one day – I dont know.”

I dont know either. I feel for him, truly. AND I wish like hell that we could see each other more, because I can feel it slipping away. The time. Its going so fast. I know he feels that with his kids – he just doesnt see it right now with us or with our parents. If I could make him see it, I would, but I know that I cant, and this breaks my heart. And I wish I could make other people see it too – the fragility, the time speeding along. But I cant force anyone to know the things that I know – the things that I already knew, but that got amplified and multiplied on July 13, 2011, when life as I knew it changed forever.

THESE are the kind of thoughts I think about at age 50 – my brain is on overload with thoughts like this. How time is moving too fast, how more people I love will keep dying, how things will keep changing, and how fragile it all is, every second. This is not a realization – its more of a constant knowing, a feeling of exhaustion from carrying it, and an urge to shout it loudly to anyone who doesn’t know –

YOU ARE RUNNING OUT OF TIME!!!!

Sit with the people you love. BE with the people you love. Make time for them, whenever you can.

Truly, it is the only thing that matters.