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TIME MARCHES ON



March is a melancholy month for me. Six years have passed since Mitch’s death. That's 2,192 days. In so many ways it seems like just yesterday but also an eternity. So much has happened in that time.




Friends have died, marriages have ended, parents have aged. The aches and pains of old house upkeep have frayed nerves. And, of course, there was Covid. Yet along the way, babies have been born, children have become young adults, successes have been celebrated. Time keeps marching on. 

 

Just this past week though, I stood at the end of my driveway struck by the silence of the night. No traffic passed by. The air smelled fresh and felt cool. The lack of car lights allowed the darkness to envelop me. Rather than feeling loneliness though, I felt a sense of comfort in the stillness of the moment.

 

The distance from 2018 has dimmed the grief, yet there is still a deep sense of love. Much like the flowers I bought a month ago - still alive, equally as beautiful in their frailty, and holding on seemingly effortlessly to their essence. 

 

It’s a different world, a different life, but one that I cherish, even on my gloomiest of days. 

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