Time is a Thief

It’s often said that “time heals all wounds.”

I think most grieving people would say that heals is a strong word.

It’s an open wound. For the rest of my life.

But I’d also say that even time has mixed reviews.

As time passes it might be easier to get through the day to day. I’m sure it’s gotten easier. I can’t really recognize it as there are still a lot of sad days.

But time is also a big, fat thief!

Yes, big.

Yes, fat.

It eats memories.

It steals the way her hands once felt on mine.

It steals the exact way she laughed.

It steals away the exact way she used to skip across the field.

It eats remembrances.

As those memories begin to fade, the longer she’s away, the more I hate time.

I hate time because she’s not here.

I hate time because it just keeps going.

Why is it still going?

But I’m also grateful for it.

In the time since Rory passed my twins have grown taller than me.

They started high school.

They went to their first dance.

They take leadership roles in our family.

Since Rory’s passing, Dax turned 12 and was given the priesthood at our church.

Dax has competed in another season of gymnastics and learned more amazing skills.

He’s getting ready to graduate elementary school.

While time is taking memories of one, the other three keep growing, developing, and turning into amazing men.

I both love and hate time. All in one moment.