Each year, time magically takes back the hour that was given to us in the fall, like an indian giver takes away something they have just given to you. I remember the year I practiced tough love on my firstborn. That day, an hour felt like two and like 30 minutes at the same time.
Time is like that when you are waiting to do something that must be done but is difficult nonetheless. The week that followed was dark and gloomy with the feeling that someone had knocked my lights out literally. I was gravely depressed from the loss of a spouse followed by the decision to send my son away in hope of saving him.
Of course I had to make my youngest understand that what I was doing was necessary. It hurt so bad to have both of my children hate me for the very act of love (albeit tough love) that I was forced into.
Every year as I awaken to darkness, when my morning was full of light just the day before, I remember the dark despair of that year when time not only took back the hour given to me the previous Fall but also the boy whose life filled me with more love than I ever knew possible.
Interesting as it is, that Spring is the time of year that most associate with new life. For me it is that but also the time that I associate with loss – not only this but the loss of a spouse, a father, and now a friend too.
Thankfully, there was just a hint of early morning light today when I finally opened up my eyes. A hint of light, and a hint of hope.