The Time Machine

Some days I think we get stuck in our own time machines. 

The hands on the clock spin wildly and when they finally stop we find ourselves at the hour of a memory that can be painful to remember.  Sasha still hurts so deeply.  She is approaching the third anniversary of John’s death and even with weeks to go before the actual date, she’s already reliving that day, over and over again. 

Will it ever get better?  Will the grief that grips her so tightly ever let go? 

This is the week, four years ago, when I saw a difference in Leroy’s condition.  His cancer made a vicious move  and all I could do was watch.  My time machine has taken me back to those weeks, every year at this time.  Will that ever change?  I just don’t know.  Do I try to prepare myself and recognize what’s about to happen?  I try, but I don’t think it does much good. 

Cancer does that…death of a loved one does that.   Our clocks have been reset.



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