I rode the bus just like any other day, and I always seemed to doze off as we went past buildings and cars, but today I snapped out of it at such an inconvenient time. We were passing the cemetery, and, as we went by, there was a silver balloon in the shape of a seven. It dawned on me right then that that was someone’s child. Someone’s grandkid and sibling. They were drawn
into the hands of God at such a young age. It was that child’s calling to serve. Everything comes at a cost and never are we promised another day. I knew the pains they felt tying that string to the lantern next to the headstone. I knew the sorrow that came with the car ride up to the cemetery and even the joy of making that child feel at home afterward.
I felt a similar pain once, one that was dear to me. Not once did the thought that someone so close to me and so important to my functionality would be gone on such short notice. Your mind may heal, but your heart’s being eaten with frostbite each time you revisit that pain. After so long, your heart grows cold, and the person you once loved to be is no more. You’ll lose everyone before you know it. Every day is a day to heal, and when you don’t heal, you grow colder. Live in that person’s memory, but don’t lose yourself to them because time won’t always be the one to pull you from that wretched feeling.
Time is the only thing that’s true in its word.
