The Passage of Time
May 20th was 9 months. Nine months that you've been gone. It seems like a lifetime ago on some days. On other days, it seems as if it was only yesterday. The passage of time brings distance between the tragedy and daily living. It does not bring comfort or healing. Time doesn't heal all wounds. I hate that cliche. It doesn't make it easier to deal with. Time doesn't do anything really, except march on. Ultimately, as time moves on, we feel left behind. Time doesn't help at all. I think we've learned to compartmentalize. This is work. This is a compartment. I have X.Y,Z to acccomplish. I put a smile on. I pep myself up. I go on. This is school. The boys have a subject to do. They do X,Y,Z. They put a smile on their face. They pep themselves up. This is dinner time. This is TV time. This is grocery shopping time. This is laundry time. This is housecleaning time. This is exercise time. This is grieving time. Compartments help. I don't bel