Castle Made of Sand

Monday mornings are typically tough getting back into the grind but when your person’s birthday consumes that first day of a new week’s energy you can barely make it through the day let alone the week. This is the second birthday without him. These milestones seem to be flying by faster and faster but the space Tin filled seems to be just as big as the day he passed. It sometimes feels like I am drowning in the waves of emptiness. There is no other way to describe it.

Once again the sweet sting of social media hits with Facebook reminding the world that Clayton’s birthday is July 15th. Everyone just saw my post to him on our 4th of July anniversary so when the “Send Clayton a Birthday Message” pops up 11 days later on everyone’s feed they feel a little more of what is my daily normal reminders. One after another after another I’m reminded every day.

There isn’t much time between the anniversary of Tin’s death, the anniversary of my father’s death, Tin and my anniversary marked yearly with a huge national reminder accompanied with fireworks and than his birthday. Forget a Monday being exhausting, when everyone is stretching and emerging for spring and the start of summer, I just want to hibernate. April through July is emotionally draining and just like that the summer is half gone and I have little time to build the walls up before the stormy waves of another my birthday, Thanksgiving and Christmas without him arrive unforgivingly.

I can see the tide rising already. Summer starts to peak and vacationers begin to complain about having to go back to their lives. Kids dread going back to school and parents start to long for more quiet at home. I know they don’t get it but all I have is quiet at home. I wish they wouldn’t wish for a temporary version of what I am permanently living. I guess that is the dark gift we have all been given – pure appreciation for each and every second. I feel like the universe threw his hourglass at me and I missed catching him. Now I’m left cut deep by glass shards and looking down at all our sandy spilled memories. So many people take for granted that they get another chance to flip their hourglass and watch the sand flow while I can only use those scattered grains to try and rebuild my castle made of sand.



Showing 4 reactions

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  • Janice Hart
    commented 2019-07-31 06:02:47 -0700
    This is such an important post. Your last paragraph says it all. I live with the quiet stillness everyday, while people hustle around me. Photographs and memories by Jim Croce is such a true song. We all live within that sand castle, and we just never know when the wave will come and knock it down. Once again, I will pick up my shovel and try to rebuild what remains. Thank you for this wonderful post.
  • Vartan Agnerian
    commented 2019-07-30 17:45:31 -0700
    So’ so tough and exhausting and draining to be thrown on this path of widowhood’
    In a few words ’ you are truly going to the heart of what being a widow is’
    Drowning ’ being cut deep by glass shards ’ and simply left on your own to deal with the sandy spilled memories …

  • Bonnie Rozean
    commented 2019-07-21 21:44:15 -0700
    Drowning in the waves of emptiness says it all for me. Thanks for another beautiful post.
  • Rosemary Petri
    commented 2019-07-20 18:07:48 -0700
    This truly hit home for me…your words express exactly how I feel. It has only been 1 year since I watched the man I loved,my soulmate for 25 years die in front of me from cardiac arrest…Thank you for this