Time Passages...

I was reminded this week that time is not necessarily a friend to the grieving. I know, there's that old saying "time heals," but I have yet to meet someone in circumstance similar to mine who's really buying that.

Anybody remember this song?

"Time passages
There's something back here that you left behind
Oh, time passages
Buy me a ticket on the last train home tonight

You reach out your hand
But you're all alone
In these time passages
I know you're in there
You're just out of sight
Oh, time passages
Buy me a ticket on the last train home tonight."
(Al Stewart, "Time Passages")

This past week the kids had no school on Friday (no school the day bow season opens--coincidence? Not here in sticksville!). Since it was supposed to rain, we made plans with friends to meet at a local Burger King with an indoor play area. We arrived before our friends, went in and got tables and the kids went to play. Our friends arrived soon after, and in they came--including L and his neighborhood friend that he had asked to bring. "Time" hit me with a full body slam there. See, L had been Braeden's best friend. Together they had conquered the beach, the park, the playground, everywhere they went. They bickered and fought over toys, shared cake (the same piece) at L's birthday party, made blanket and pillow "beds" and taught each other some "interesting" things over the years. Though they argued, they clearly were best buds always. Together, they had "big fun" and lots of adventure.
Now, after what seems like such a short time later, L has a new friend with him. Of course he does. Time doesn't stop. Lives don't stop, even when we stubbornly would choose to stay right there in the moment if we could. We can't. It's not as if I expected L to never make any more friends. I really didn't have any expectation. I hadn't even thought about it at all until...there it was.

Time marches on. I'm not oblivious to that fact. But the implications of time's passage often aren't so noticeable until some random little happening like this screams for my attention. Then there is the heartbreaking collision of "what should be" with "what is." --the horrible feeling that the something important that was left behind is now even farther away...back there...the longing to reach back for it...and the realization that we have a lifetime of these moments still ahead of us...