Two months today since Pat left this world to be with his Savior. From one 12th to the next, to another, the months have been marked. Artificial constructs, manmade to mark the passage of something we sense and feel as we move through it, something that we exist "in" but is intangible and vanishes before we can ever truly own it. We waste it, we kill it, we savor it and cherish it but we never know how much of it we truly have. Time rushes past or it plods along, but it always moves onward. In the present I type this, but already in the past are the movements that brought these words to print. Today marks two such chunks of this liquid, elusive stuff that lives are measured by, Months - a collection of weeks, days, hours and minutes demarcated by man, and measured by a ticking of a clock. Two of these have passed separating the time since I last touched his living (albeit barely), breathing (by virtue of machines), flesh and blood body and today where I sit here without him. "For we are only of yesterday and know nothing, Because our days on earth are as a shadow." ~Job 8:9
Somewhere in eternity, he is passing time the Lord's way with a day as a thousand years and a thousand years as a day. No sorrow to mark it as we do on earth, measuring our grief in sad days that gather and collect themselves into months that pass.
“Time is very slow for those who wait;
very fast for those who are scared;
very long for those who lament;
very short for those who celebrate; but for those who love, time is eternal.”
- William Shakespeare
I'm not especially melancholy today, just philosophical.