The official definition of Time according to the Oxford Language (online) dictionary:
[1] "the indefinite continued progress of existence and events in the past, present, and future regarded as a whole."
[2] "
a point of time as measured in hours and minutes past midnight or noon."
In physics, the definition of time is simple—time is change, or the interval over which change occurs.
It is impossible to know that time has passed unless something changes.
The amount of time or change is calibrated by comparison with a
standard.
Einstein's thoughts: Time seems to
follow a universal, ticktock rhythm. But it doesn't. In the Special
Theory of Relativity, Einstein determined that time is relative—in other words, the rate at which time passes depends on your frame of reference.
Six months ago today himself passed away. It was the day before his 59th birthday. I had seen him two days prior, and while his breathing was raspy (yes, I had the thought 'death rattle'), but the hospice nurse put him on oxygen, which she said made him more comfortable. The care home had shut down to visitors because of a stomach flu that was going around the residents, and they were trying to stop the spread of it. I could have pushed to see him, but the hospice nurse told me he was sleeping comfortably.
My point?
I thought I had a little more time. I knew his time was coming to an end... but I still thought I'd be able to wish him a happy birthday. These thoughts make me so sad.
***
Recently a friend told me that from recent conversations with me, I seemed to be stuck in my past.
This thought has stuck with me... I think she was correct in some ways. I had been thinking about how few people were left that knew me "before." Before I met and married himself and moved away. Before I was part of a couple. I was thinking that I had buried quite a bit of myself in the marriage for the sake of keeping the peace, or just taking the easy road and not being willing to argue or fight over a lot of things, that in the big scheme of things, were not worth fighting over.
And to me, those people who knew me "before" are important to keep... if only to help remind me of the best parts of me that are still there, perhaps buried but ready to come forth again... or to help me realize that I've grown and (hopefully) matured.
But that's not the point of me writing today...
***
I'm writing today because the last six months have been long and hard. But also short. The passage of time has been uneven. I had no frame of reference for the illness and trauma both he and I were experiencing.
Time is relative - in the course of my 57 years, six months is not very much time. But before he passed away, the four months prior had also been long, hard and short; also uneven. As the saying goes, "the days are long but the years are short." Very long days in the hospital and the rehab center led to extremely short weeks.
We had a long time together, relatively... almost 27 years. We had an odd relationship for a married couple, I think. He said it himself one night not that long ago... "we have nothing in common but we make it work."
My dad once said we had "low expectations" of each other. We didn't ask a lot of each other... himself was quite self-contained (himself's words) and happy if he had a cup of coffee, a computer and a television - and once we had smart phones, happy if he had his phone. He didn't need a lot of people interaction. I was happy I didn't have be home with him; that he didn't mind me going off on singing weekends or two week road trips without him. He could cook for himself and liked what he fixed. I was able to be independent but still able to count on him to keep the "home fires burning" as they say.
I don't want to sound gloomy and morose. I'm keeping my head above water most days. I have activities and pursuits about which I'm passionate, which bring me a lot of joy. I miss himself's sense of humour (yes, spelled with a "u" because he was British, after all, lol). He did make me laugh.
I remember when my best friend Penny died in 2018... her husband called me that morning just a few minutes after she'd passed away to let me know. I remember feeling like I didn't want to go to sleep that night because then it would be farther away from the last day she'd lived. I wanted time to slow down so that it wouldn't be so long since I'd seen her.
I believe that her death prepared me for this year. I had never lost someone so close and dear to my heart, who had been such a daily presence and vital energy; whose absence was so keenly felt. I marked anniversaries of how long she'd been gone in my calendar - with purple stars. It was unthinkable that she'd already been gone a month... then 2 months... and then six months...
Today - after the loss of himself and my mom; some days speed by and some days just crawl by. I couldn't tell you or even guess why some days are so much longer than others. I lost himself when he had the massive stroke in October, truth be told. It'll be almost a year soon, so 6 months after he died doesn't seem as impactful, since I'd essentially been on my own since the stroke.
I started really losing my mom 3 or 4 years ago - she had good days and better days and horrible days... but she stopped really trying to battle her kidney disease awhile ago, and having any kind of meaningful conversation with her for any length of time had long passed. My grief over her death lingered over 3 or 4 years - and leaving their house after a visit... I'd cry. Sometimes the whole 3-hour drive home, on and off for that 3 hours.
Still, you think you have a little more time.
A Little Time (Beautiful South) song comes to mind....
I've had a little time to find the truthNow I've had a little room to check what's wrongI've had a little time, and I still love youI've had a little
We are all just living the best we can in the time (day) we have... maybe just try to notice when things change.
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