A time to not move on

We all woke up this morning. Most of us went to work or school. We all came home when it was through, went through whatever daily routine it is we go through and made our way to bed. It is March 14, 2011.

Shirt’s in the closet, shoes in the hall;
Mama’s in the kitchen, baby and all;
Everything is everything;
Everything is everything;
But you’re missing.

And as easily, automatically and thoughtlessly as we got out of bed, we could have died at any moment. Every day goes like this, really. Sept. 11, 2001 … boom. More than 3,000 people in and around the Twin Towers in New York City dead. March 11, 2011 … at least that many dead in Japan.

Coffee cup’s on the counter, jacket’s on the chair;
Paper’s on the doorstep, but you’re not there;
Everything is everything;
Everything is everything;
But you’re missing.

The acts that led to these deaths – a reported terrorist attack and 8.9 magnitude earthquake, respectively – happened in an instant.

Picture’s on the nightstand, TV’s on in the den;
Your house is waiting, your house is waiting;
For you to walk in, for you to walk in;
But you’re missing …

It’s left me wondering, as these things always do, if I’m savoring instants as I should. Loved ones could be gone in an instant. I could be gone. Life as I know it could be gone.

This happened in Japan, which affected us all, and a friend in New York got very sick last week  and remains hospitalized, which is affecting me.  This life isn’t meant to be taken for granted. We spend too much time writing blogs, arguing politics and watching our weight. We need to be outside somewhere, enjoying God’s gift with the persons we love.

We won’t always have the option. We might not get the chance to ready ourselves for the option’s departure.

You’re missing when I shut out the lights;
You’re missing when I close my eyes;
You’re missing when I see the sun rise;
You’re missing … 

The earthquake in Japan – and the aftermath, which is unfortunately far from done – led to extra attention from me to Kalista this weekend. I bought new living room furniture and replaced the kitchen chairs. I bought a recliner just for her. She helped till the garden, ready the flower pots for next week’s planting extravaganza and arrange the car-less carport next to the garage so we can have a cool spot to relax outside this summer.

We’ll plant in the garden next weekend, if fate doesn’t take one of us from the other.

All of this was on the agenda for this weekend before Friday’s disaster. However, the quake added a sense of urgency to it – there was no putting it off. I went to bed knowing Kalista’d gotten more attention than usual; she was grinning while she slept, the last time I saw her Sunday night.

I don’t know what I’d do without her.

God’s drifting in heaven, devil’s in the mailbox;
I got dust on my shoes, nothing but teardrops. 

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One Response to A time to not move on

  1. Sean says:

    Really makes your realize how fragile life and our personal relationships really are. We all undervalue them.

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