Time waits for no man.
Without knowing, its been a hundred days.
(And in a couple of days, it’ll be a year since I lost a friend.)
Without knowing, its been a hundred days.
(And in a couple of days, it’ll be a year since I lost a friend.)
Does it feel this way, the passing of time ?
Was it only a hundred days ago when I last saw him in the hospital, hooked to countless IVs and machines, living marginally by the grace of advanced medical technology ?
Was it only a hundred days ago when I last saw him in the hospital, hooked to countless IVs and machines, living marginally by the grace of advanced medical technology ?
I still remember how it felt like, the days after his passing. How time seemed to come to a standstill in our home, where he lay. Beyond our walls, life proceeded as normal; the rise and fall of tides, the push and pull of people as they hurried along.
Where I stood, nothing mattered to me; just the importance of living in the present, at that standstill moment, grasping at the final strands of time we had left together.
Physically, he was there. Spiritually, I’d like to believe so.
Physically, he was there. Spiritually, I’d like to believe so.
It felt so surreal after, where I was forced into the present, back into reality, away from the little bubble we created. All of a sudden, I was forced to adapt and fit myself back into the world that abandoned me as I mourned.
The calendar tells me its been a hundred days; sure doesn’t feel like it though.