It takes something like death to shake one out of the doldrums. All too often I found myself wearily progressing. Then, like a freight train, death comes barreling out of a darkened tunnel.
The death of my grandmother was something we were all prepared for. My mom had begun funeral arrangements long before the hospice nurses arrived. We began discussing plans for a smaller home for my mother. Despite the best laid plans, I was sorely unprepared for the morning of April 23rd -- I've become so familiar with the date that I don't even have to scour my brain for the exact number.
I realized that in my life I look forward to the future, albeit one that is uncertain. My fears and anxieties stem from the total lack of knowledge of what's to come. Suddenly I was forced to reflect on my past and the past I shared with a loved one. Sitting her, I realize that I dwell on the past far more than I thought. I think about people that have come in and out of my lives and the ones that are still here with me now. I think about past regrets and the shadows they cast over my present being. I think, "what if" and allow my mind to painfully live out a life that most likely will never come true.
It's easy to claim no regrets yet it's far more difficult to accept. It's these moments of quiet reflection when my mind tends to drift. Time flows forward, constant and unmovable and in its wake memories that were and might have been.
I really wish I could accept the present as a gift, but again easier to claim than to believe.
