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the movement of time

My son wanted to visit his grandfather’s grave and going there made me experience a fit of nostalgia. I hadn’t been there in close to 20 years because I don’t think I will find anything special by standing in front of a headstone. The legacy of my father lives in my memory which is the best place to reach out to it when I need to.

He died 24 years ago this month and driving to the cemetery made me think how fast time flows and how we are amazed when we realize how many years have passed when it doesn’t feel that way. My son will experience the same thing when he gets older but for now he is embroiled in that part of his life where he is building his psyche for the future. He is in that stasis where a foundation has yet to be built so you can look back one day and realize you have a wealth of knowledge you can rely on.

For now, we still have coffees and talk about where he is before I lose him for a period. He will begin to test his mettle and possibly find someone he can be close to and experience love with. I tell him to take his time and perhaps he will use my own life to date as a cautionary bellwether of what can happen. Fortunately, he doesn’t have the trans issue to contend with, but then he will no doubt have his own set of challenges.

I used to joke with people that life is a like a roll of bathroom tissue in that it doesn’t come off very easily at the outset but near the end it just falls off without barely touching it. It may be a coarse analogy, but this is in a sense how it feels like to me now.

It simply flies.

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