Time Flies

Today I'm writing about the last day. The last day. Some days it's so easy that I feel guilty for remembering it all so clearly. And then there are days like today where I struggle to remember what exactly happened at all. I remember there was a day we had In N Out Burger in the room. What day what that? I remember there was a night my uncle fell off a chair. What night was that? I remember that there were a few days where my father still had his eyes open. I don't remember the last time I looked into his open, aware, alive eyes. And I feel guilty for not remembering. 

This book and writing it are my life. There are ups and downs, some days are easier than others, and  some pages flow and flow and flow like it's not even me writing them at all and some pages feel as though they're being ripped from me--even my finger tips feel bloody as my heart is transfered from my body through the keys and into, up onto the screen. And still there are times where I feel everything flowing through me just as it should be, like it's all a part of me--my body and soul (even my father's soul) are connected and creating and owning this piece of my life that is so important, that shaped me, that molded me from the woman I was before into the woman I became after. And all of this helps me recognize that it will all happen again because this is the way of the world, and I accept that.

I am not the woman I was when my father died. And in reliving those days just before his death, I see clearly just how strong I was, just how weak I was, just how normal and crazy I was. There was so much growth to be had in those last few days that I couldn't possibly have absorbed it all in just those days. It's in looking back with an honest eye that I can both see and acknowledge where I really was and thus track my growth over the past three years. My God, has it been three years? Three years, four months, three days. Yes it has.

Time flies, even when it's not all fun.