Tuesday, July 9, 2013

The time it takes is the time it takes

Eddison and Leila's offspring,
left to right: Phil, Sarah & Mika.
I'm a little slow.  I'm not talking about the speed at which I live my life.  I freely admit though, that slow is a pace I'm quite comfortable with.  In fact I prefer it nearly all the time.

What I'm noticing more, though, is how the passage of time brings things into a different focus, an altered view.  And how, as my life unfolds and circumstances change, things, events, and relationships take on entirely new meaning.

Recently I was looking for a particular photo in my many folders of e-files when I noticed my heart felt heavy and I seemed to need to take a rest.  The effort needed to scroll and click is nothing compared to the emotional energy required to revisit the images.

I was stunned by the boatload of big stuff: diminished health of loved ones, long goodbyes, births, celebrations, loss after loss, the sheer number of trips east over these past several years, and on it goes.  There's been plenty of positive change as well, most notably my own improved health since changing how and what I eat.  I seem to be connecting the dots more, or at least gaining some insight.

These graduation photographs speak volumes to me, noteworthy for their place of prominence in my in-laws home.  Though one of their children died a few months shy of his 34th birthday, there are many mementos of him throughout the family home and in our shared home on Bowen Island.  Leila once told me it took her 10 years to move forward after his death.  Though I have not had to endure the loss of a child, I could relate: I was nearly frozen in time for 13 years after the tragic death of my stepfather, Dick.

Loss takes time to process.  It takes time to manifest, and we need time to identify what it is and how it changes us.

I'm taking my time.  It feels like the right thing to do.

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