Sunday was such a bright day, after church I just couldn’t stand to simply go home. I went for a long, leisurely drive, like back in the day.
I couldn’t stop thinking about driving around on a similarly beautiful day, some time ago now, on a mission to find California poppies. Those were different times. I have so many of these things, these moments, that mean so much to me but probably not to anyone else. And what does it mean to be alone if not to care about things that no one else does? Yet it seems so trite to complain of loneliness when everywhere I look I see lonely broken people.
So I returned home with a heavy heart. I decided I was overdue for a visit to my grandmother, which happened, but did little to improve my mood. Yesterday I dreamt of my grandparents. Those too were different times, in the dream. They were on a skiing trip, and my grandmother was so young and full of life. My grandfather could barely keep up. I honestly don’t know if such a scenario has ever occurred, but I woke up almost sick to my stomach thinking of how lonely she must be now… after 65 years. I keep trying to tell you how cruel time can be, but I don’t know if you hear.
I wanted to say these things this day in particular, for reasons that, once again, I doubted meant anything to anyone else. Then I got a certain phone call that only left me wondering, “Why today?”
But I am tired of looking for things that aren’t there.
…And I know it aches
How your heart, it breaks
You can only take so much…
–U2