“Time is Not Yet Equal*”

Joshua and I’s wedding is in 304 days. Less that a year. In terms of everything that comes with that date: excitement, love, the anticipation, the actual ceremony, the reception, the honeymoon and you know, the actual being married part makes 304 days seem like an eternity. It’s something I just want to happen (while at the same time, the planning and waiting are a great experiences).

Yet, as I talk with Mrs. Wilson and hear snippets of conversation around the house or overheard phone conversation and I hear, “That’s cutting it close for her” or along the lines of her not making it to an Oct. 1st wedding and suddenly time is much more precious, suddenly each day needs to be a year long.

I hate how unequal those two time feelings are. It makes me regret setting an October wedding (even though I set it with the knowledge of her cancer) because Mrs. Wilson has been and is such an important person in my life. The thought of her having less than 304 days left is terribly heartbreaking. I don’t know if I even know how to put into words what I’m trying to say.

Mrs. Wilson has the will and hope that she’ll live that long but I still wonder if the thought crosses her mind daily that she may not make it that long. How does one live their life, even in their own mind, with the knowledge that life is coming to a close. For her, her faith in Christ’s redemption helps her along but I know she’s not done. I know she wants to be there on October 1st and even more importantly be there when Matthew graduates college, gets married or when Jenny gives her a grandchild. I know she’s not ready to leave everyone behind, to stop having multiple hour phone conversations, to stop receiving/send cards on a daily basis. I know she’s not tired of yelling, “Jeff” from the kitchen to him in the living room snoring in front of the television. She’s not ready to leave Sadie behind, her little doggy shadow. She’s not ready to stop exclaiming in her high pitched voice about anything she finds over the top (which can be very little at times). She’s not ready to stop visiting Kohls and talking with all of those people she use to work with. She’s not ready to stop mothering everyone. She’s not ready to stop saying (which she has nearly daily since I’ve known her) that she needs to “get things done” and clean the basement out.

So how do you live when the grains in the hourglass are so few (presumably).

*Note: This was the title of Tanya Smith’s poem presented in poetry workshop recently. All due credit to her.