The passage of time

Time is a fluid thing . . . everyday has the same number of hours but admittedly all days don’t feel the same do they?  The other night as I was walking out of my kitchen I glanced at the container holding all the children’s medicines.  A bottle of cold medicine had spilled in it and it needed to be cleaned out before it could be put away.  I walked past it and in the split-second glance I thought “Ryan will take care of that.” and kept walking.  Except, . . . except.  Ryan has been dead for over a year.  That time thing.  Like a vortex in time I for a moment was living in a world where Ryan was still alive and part of our household.  A time when Ryan handled those types of messes and I handled the type that actually required getting the children to help.  A time when our lives weren’t partially defined by what was no longer in it.

I’m not sure how many times my mind has played this trick on me, but it’s been a while and I was a few steps away before I realized what my mind had told me.  And then realized it was wrong.  And then grieved all over again.  In some ways it’s like early onset Alzheimer’s . . . I relive the same grief over and over again.  Not sure why it works this way but I have to imagine I’m not the only one.  Is God giving me a moment of normalcy or a moment to remember why I should appreciate each day?  Have I started taking life for granted again?  In some ways, yes I have.  Life moves on and we have to savor each day.

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