Each closing time is of course also some other beginning’s end. More of another slide around a circle. We rarely know the exact moment anyone we love will no longer be traveling hand-in-hand with us (at least in a way others can see) or how thin the space between us may remain.
Sometimes we know that day will come all too soon.
Measured in traditional human time, this is a fairly momentous anniversary of one of those days of physical parting. The final days of my husband’s life, in our home, have haunted me so much that since then I’ve found myself fruitlessly packing up and fleeing, more than once, with assorted combinations of children and beagles and oh-so-much weight in ultimately ephemeral belongings. The things we carry.
I think that today, he’d want me to share some of the heavens I’ve seen in solitude over the years only because I heeded his wish to get outside. To breathe in the wee hours when I’d need to make room to see the big picture, where it’s never closing time.
Love in the Spaces 