I believe in Time. Time, the catalyst of affection as well as the healer of pain. Time, the force in the universe we can not control, the constant that keeps us sane in times of craziness.
Love is a very strong bond between humans. Time strengthens that bond to the strength of Hercules. I love my Grandma, far and away the closest relative I’ve ever had. Time has made us close. The nights of sleeping at grandma’s house as a little boy, staying up past bed-time, but it was our little secret. Waking up in the morning to the smell of pancakes, from the wonderful Grandma who went through multiple brain surgeries earlier in her life, and still suffered the effects at times, but would do anything for the one’s she loved. And she loved me, and I loved her. Time was what strengthened us together, time spent at holiday gatherings, time spent with her while my parents work, time spent thinking about how much fun the next time was going to be.
Time can also slow to a screeching halt. Riding to your haircut with your father after a long day of school and football practice, your father buying you ice cream before for no particular reason, quite a rarity in my household. The quiet car ride, and then the unbearable and unspeakable news. My Grandma had passed away during the night. No, no, no, no, there was no way. Grandma, the strength of our family, the firm guiding hands that led all of us to be happy together when tensions were high, the Grandma I loved more than I thought possible. I’ve never felt a longer day than the day that Time was my enemy.
Time spent reflecting is the hardest Time anyone could ever go through. Time spent thinking about what kind of person they were and how you wish you could’ve just said one last thing to them. Praying to give anything to go back in Time and say one last thing to them, to tell her how I feel, to tell her I love her. Time spent realizing she wouldn’t want me sitting around crying.
That is the last thing she would want. With all the time I spent with her and noticed how she was always strong, and always loved those closest to her with a burning passion. Time spent realizing I was being selfish, and that she was in too much pain, all though it would never be admitted. Time, the one that made me remember how great she was, and that I should be joyous that she had joined Jesus in heaven, after attending mass every Sunday for as long as anyone can remember.
Time has healed my pain, and turned it into a joy of remembrance. Time spent thinking of her, time spent being with her, time spent missing her. Time spent walking along with her spirit in the swirling memories, always there to watch over me.