Fighting the clock

Yesterday would have been Pop’s 99th birthday…ten years since our final Budweiser under the seagrape tree. Funny how you don’t realize when something is the last time, I think you’d appreciate it a lot more.

These recollections that I post, these little vignettes, are one way I keep both him and mom alive. They were great parents; Doug and I were blessed. But the memories are fading, becoming old sepia photos. They’re both becoming more abstract, less lifelike, by the day. I’m acutely aware of time slipping away.

I perhaps feel their loss less keenly now; but there’s a different kind of loss, maybe even worse, as their faces slowly recede from memory.

A friend offered this: “I believe it’s because the memories are not just memories, but have incorporated themselves into our very souls. They aren’t separate. They are a part of us.” Interesting perspective.

But in any event, I know I’ll see them again because of Easter. And that’s a comforting thought.