MARCH 3
The bell strikes one. We take no note of time
But from its loss.
—EDWARD YOUNGTime is always slipping away from us. But the loss of a loved
one puts its own strong markers on our sense of time. For
a while we divide all our experiences into “Before” and
“After.” Before the death, after the death. Perhaps before
the onset of illness, and after the onset of illness. The color-
ation of the past shifts—all that has gone before is now
sealed with a fixative, the sign of an era ended. The time
that spins out ahead into the future is, for a while, an empty
space, a projected perpetual reminder of loss.
But then, as we begin to reweave our lives with the strands
now available to us, the lines of demarcation soften a bit.
We begin to look back, not always with the pain of what we
have lost, but with joy and appreciation for that life we have
shared. And, in a way that we could never have imagined
until we had made this journey of loss and grief, we savor
the ways in which our loved one still is, and will continue
to be, a presence in our lives.
As I begin to see beyond the pain, I sense how both sadness and
joy are part of the tapestry of my life.