2. Timeless

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Written Tuesday, February 18, 2020 / Day 190 / Morning

In grief, time has no value any more. Time stopped for us at the point of our loss. The world, of course, moved on - but for us - we stopped.

All the indicators of time that really were of significance ended. Certainly we continue on with the calendar as an awkward tour director.

It tells us of our limited obligations. The ones we cannot ignore or refuse to acknowledge. The obligations that are necessary to even lead a shell of a life.

In that same way - as we survey our past - which we are very good at since it is one of our recreational activities that we do participate in - we find an interesting observation.

Looking at our lives - looking at yours as well - you can remember periods of time that just seemed like they would be going on forever. Patterns of our life that were “our life” for that time.

In those periods it just seemed like time stood still in a sense. Everything we were doing just continued on. Continued on with a predictability that was constant. It was reliable. There it was - week after week - month after month - even year after year.

Little did we realize - we were thinking life would just go on at that pace - at that level - forever.

Knowing perhaps - in some deep recess of our being - that all of it would end at some point.

But it did not end. It did not vanish. It did something worse.

It changed.

It changed into something else.

Those changes were varied in their impact. Some changes were incremental - some were gradual. Other changes were dramatic. Sometimes they were systemic. At those times the entire playing field changed.

Changed to a different game entirely.

Those transitions were quite difficult. Some taking weeks, months and years to embrace.

Yet eventually the new pattern would emerge. As the pattern. As the way we lived.

As timeless.

For a time at least.

As I survey my world of 6 months past the end of my life - I am stuck in the snapshot of my pre-grief life - in this life I am now living.

Like those residents of Pompeii whose lives ended quite abruptly as they were living their day to day - my world has been encapsulated in grief.

Frozen. Held in limbo.

I have noticed this as I reflect on the artifacts of our life together that stand as the testimony to what was.

Like my granddaughter Hannah and her pacifier - I cling to those markers of the life I long for - fully knowing that life has ended.

And then I ask myself - what do I do?

It is not as simple as, “Well, get a hobby! Take a trip! Redecorate!”

No none of those things are an option.

Because those of us in grief face a simple problem - we have no life to lead without the one who was our life.

“Getting past” that - as some would say - is quite impossible. If not downright offensive as an option.

And yet - in this current pattern that seems to have no end and no clue as to what would be a “next step” - we know from the past that even the life as we now know it - as excruciatingly awful as it is - will also change at some point.

It has to.

Because it always does.

And it will.

But until then?

Until that day - life is a game of survival.

To overcome the anguish, the emptiness, the loss of everything that made us what we were on that terrible day when our lives changed forever.

I look at these artifacts of the past and ask, “What am I to do with you?”.

“What possibly could I ever do with you?”.

Those questions remain. And for now so will the artifacts. They will remain.

They must.

They are at the worst - the remnants of our former life - a life now gone.

They represent everything that was precious to us - tributes to what was lost.

Monuments to the pattern of their day. Of that time when they were the day-to-day.

Reminders of that pattern of life - that pattern that we thought seemed timeless.

Until the day that a new pattern will arrive. That change will be more than difficult. Those changes have never been easy. But that has not stopped them from coming.

They will arrive - and as crazy as it sounds - will become some new pattern that will in it’s own right - become the timeless pattern that we know life will bring.

As it always does.

2. Timeless

Written Tuesday, February 18, 2020 / Day 190 / Morning

In grief, time has no value any more. Time stopped for us at the point of our loss. The world, of course, moved on - but for us - we stopped.

All the indicators of time that really were of significance ended. Certainly we continue on with the calendar as an awkward tour director.

It tells us of our limited obligations. The ones we cannot ignore or refuse to acknowledge. The obligations that are necessary to even lead a shell of a life.

In that same way - as we survey our past - which we are very good at since it is one of our recreational activities that we do participate in - we find an interesting observation.

Looking at our lives - looking at yours as well - you can remember periods of time that just seemed like they would be going on forever. Patterns of our life that were “our life” for that time.

In those periods it just seemed like time stood still in a sense. Everything we were doing just continued on. Continued on with a predictability that was constant. It was reliable. There it was - week after week - month after month - even year after year.

Little did we realize - we were thinking life would just go on at that pace - at that level - forever.

Knowing perhaps - in some deep recess of our being - that all of it would end at some point.

But it did not end. It did not vanish. It did something worse.

It changed.

It changed into something else.

Those changes were varied in their impact. Some changes were incremental - some were gradual. Other changes were dramatic. Sometimes they were systemic. At those times the entire playing field changed.

Changed to a different game entirely.

Those transitions were quite difficult. Some taking weeks, months and years to embrace.

Yet eventually the new pattern would emerge. As the pattern. As the way we lived.

As timeless.

For a time at least.

As I survey my world of 6 months past the end of my life - I am stuck in the snapshot of my pre-grief life - in this life I am now living.

Like those residents of Pompeii whose lives ended quite abruptly as they were living their day to day - my world has been encapsulated in grief.

Frozen. Held in limbo.

I have noticed this as I reflect on the artifacts of our life together that stand as the testimony to what was.

Like my granddaughter Hannah and her pacifier - I cling to those markers of the life I long for - fully knowing that life has ended.

And then I ask myself - what do I do?

It is not as simple as, “Well, get a hobby! Take a trip! Redecorate!”

No none of those things are an option.

Because those of us in grief face a simple problem - we have no life to lead without the one who was our life.

“Getting past” that - as some would say - is quite impossible. If not downright offensive as an option.

And yet - in this current pattern that seems to have no end and no clue as to what would be a “next step” - we know from the past that even the life as we now know it - as excruciatingly awful as it is - will also change at some point.

It has to.

Because it always does.

And it will.

But until then?

Until that day - life is a game of survival.

To overcome the anguish, the emptiness, the loss of everything that made us what we were on that terrible day when our lives changed forever.

I look at these artifacts of the past and ask, “What am I to do with you?”.

“What possibly could I ever do with you?”.

Those questions remain. And for now so will the artifacts. They will remain.

They must.

They are at the worst - the remnants of our former life - a life now gone.

They represent everything that was precious to us - tributes to what was lost.

Monuments to the pattern of their day. Of that time when they were the day-to-day.

Reminders of that pattern of life - that pattern that we thought seemed timeless.

Until the day that a new pattern will arrive. That change will be more than difficult. Those changes have never been easy. But that has not stopped them from coming.

They will arrive - and as crazy as it sounds - will become some new pattern that will in it’s own right - become the timeless pattern that we know life will bring.

As it always does.

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