time

Time. It's full of cliches -  "it heals all wounds", "it flies", "it waits for no one". Sometimes it moves too fast and sometimes its unbearably slow.  But does time even exist? That depends on who you ask, what you believe. 

In five seconds I can draw a breath and be grateful for this moment. A memory flashes. A smile or a tear appears.

 The seconds turn to minutes and I listen to a song that meant so much to you (Hallelujah, KD Lang's version). I remember your passion for the song during the 2010 Vancouver Olympics opening ceremonies. You loved watching the Olympics. 

​Minutes turn to hours and my hands get lost in the act of creating, remembering the times we would sit together to craft, sharing ideas and inspiration. You also shared your love of crafting with Kate.

Hours turn to days and I cherish the weeks you would visit me or when I would head west to visit you - laughs, adventures, road trips, visiting friends, shopping, walking the dogs, and usually tea. Or we would meet in Calgary to have fun family time, catching up, sharing stories and simply being together. 

Weeks flow in to months and we would spend months planning some pretty amazing adventures. Emails flying back and forth about a tour we thought would be amazing, tips on how to avoid blisters, debating which hotel in Rome might have slightly softer beds or you reminding me that you can pick up whatever currency I needed at your staff rate. 
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Months become years.

Five years ago we said goodbye to you in the physical but love is not bound by time. Life has been quieter, different, challenging. We honour traditions, build new ones and carry you with us. We remember. We are grateful. We move forward even when we don't understand the lesson. We celebrate the signs, share your love, and trust that you are always with us. ​

I miss you, mom, and your earthly love.  ​