This past weekend I heard that my friend Diane had passed away. I know she's been sick a long time, though she has only been seriously ill for a few months. It was hard news to hear, though even harder news when she was nearing the end and I knew that I wouldn't be able to see her again. Sometimes it's harder than anything to live even just a couple hours away from everyone I know and be employed full time. I often feel like I'm wasting so much time doing things that don't even matter when what matters is life itself, and the people that populate it.
I'm heading to Diane's wake this evening to see her family, though, and the hardest part about going to the funeral of a friend is that the one person you can't see is the person you want to see most.
I've tried to commit to having more time for people in my life and I've come to realize that that is a lot harder than it sounds. I always want to recommit to that, and then find life slipping away with surprising speed. I thought about this last month in Tennessee after my family vacation, when my family had already returned home and Nick and I were sitting at the Elkmont campground without them. I thought of how they were already halfway home by then and that memory was over and gone. I watched a single rivulet of the Little River and followed it with my eyes until it was gone from sight, then thought of it later and wondered where it had gone. The motion of the river reminded me of life and the memory that I had just been living that very morning. Before I realized what had happened, it had gone by.
That's the way life really is and knowing that makes it hard for me to justify a lot of silly things I spend my life doing.
I'm heading to Diane's wake this evening to see her family, though, and the hardest part about going to the funeral of a friend is that the one person you can't see is the person you want to see most.
I've tried to commit to having more time for people in my life and I've come to realize that that is a lot harder than it sounds. I always want to recommit to that, and then find life slipping away with surprising speed. I thought about this last month in Tennessee after my family vacation, when my family had already returned home and Nick and I were sitting at the Elkmont campground without them. I thought of how they were already halfway home by then and that memory was over and gone. I watched a single rivulet of the Little River and followed it with my eyes until it was gone from sight, then thought of it later and wondered where it had gone. The motion of the river reminded me of life and the memory that I had just been living that very morning. Before I realized what had happened, it had gone by.
That's the way life really is and knowing that makes it hard for me to justify a lot of silly things I spend my life doing.
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