It's A Good Day
“It has been said, 'time heals all wounds.' I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone.”
―
If you are a Christian, the Bible has some pretty specific words about it. There is a time for everything, Ecclesiastes 3 says.
I'm tired of time.
Now, if it could stand still, speed up, show us the future....let us live moments of our past over again. If we could figure out how to harness that power, what would you do?
I don't need to know my future, I'm happy where I am. I am thankful for the lessons my past has taught me, regardless of the pain that I felt at the time. Reliving the wonderful moments would be amazing. Sitting on the front porch of my grandmother's house in the hot interior summers, shaded by the giant willows, listening to thunderstorms with her. Running around at the playground behind my uncle's house with my cousins. Riding bikes across McArthur Island with my mom and stopping at the Husky for a slush on the way home. Summer nights on my best friend's grandparents nursery (coupled with snowy days in the winter). The moment I first met my husband, Rob, beach nights in the ocean with my sunshine-girl, scary movie and McDonald's nights with my soul sister. The birth of my son, and how who I was before that day washed away in a wave of emotion as I fell in love with this little creature that had been placed in to my arms.
I could sit here all day and talk about the amazing moments that I would revisit if I could manipulate time. Just to watch my face, the faces of the people I love, smiling, laughing and having fun. I get so overwhelmed with emotion when I think about these moments that I can't help but tear up, because these moments helped form me, create me. Everyone has them.
For every moment that you would revisit, I'm certain there is a moment in time you wish you could forget. Those moments that Mrs.Kennedy references in her thoughts on time and pain are very real, they mold us just as equally as those happy memories do. No matter how much we bury them and the lessons they taught us about ourselves, about others, about the world, they still remain. As humans we so frequently remind ourselves of the bad things that have happened to us, and how we became who we are today by enduring those painful times. Personally, as of late, I am trying my best to not let the bad times define me, especially given the happenings of 2018.
July 13th, 2018, to be more exact.
My nephews, Colton & Carter, the eight year old neighbour girl (whom I watch during the day), Zoey, and my own son, Paxton, had just finished their first week of elementary summer school. For those that don't have summer school for elementary students, it's just a three week curriculum throughout July for half days, to help them keep their brains going but also to help those who may need the extra help. Having those four at home, plus my daughter, Thaida, who was only eighteen months old at the time, and the other neighbour girl, Amelia, who was three and half, it was nice to have the day broken up a bit, especially given nap time is still a strong necessity with the Littles.
I don't remember much from Friday, July 13th, 2018. I remember having a to do list a mile long, with a whole bunch of days off the following week for Rob, and appointments needing to be booked. I got it all done, the girls cooperated, everything was coming up roses. It was a good day! It was a really hot day, so the Bigs were in the pool while the Littles were napping. Rob got home early, and he'd just had a really good day. We had an easy weekend ahead of us, with some birthday celebrations for one of our best friends, Joe, on Sunday. I had to work that night, a youth group sleepover at the church, and the kids had a bit of a cough so we couldn't go to Joe's house on his actual birthday, which was Saturday, because Joe's dad is immunocompromised, so we made an alternate plan with his wife, Nadine. Next I can remember, I'm watching Rob sit back on the patio with a beer in the shade, watching the kids and just giving me this smile of his that I hadn't seen for quite awhile because he had personally been going through some stuff. "I'm so happy today, babe. It's a good day."
It's a good day. Remember what I said earlier about moments and how we look back on them as definitive markers in our lives?
I can't recall where Hubster took Paxton, but they weren't home. I took a chance, and decided to try to put the baby down early so they could have a good evening together. She fell asleep, and I went about getting my things ready to take with me when they got back with the car. I gave them kisses, left my family with our neighbour, Rebecca, and her girls to play a game and went on my way. He was right. It's a good day.
This is where words start to fail me because it's the beginning of the end. The end of my blissful existence, the end of normal. Where I was me. Where, no matter what, my worst day was still nothing in the grand scheme, and I could think of those painful, defining moments, know they exist, but not carry them around with me. How does one put to words when their life changes forever, in a negative way?
I arrived at the church, ready to work, to discover that our internet was down. We needed that to stream movies for the night, so I offered to call the internet company. On my way up I got a message that I didn't really think anything of, and quickly replied to it. I called my Godmother, who works with the church as well, to ask her some questions that I needed before calling the internet company. We had a good chat, and we made soft plans to go to the new water park with my kids. It's a good day, I thought to myself as I hung up the phone with her and dialed the next number.
I had been on the phone with a nice gentleman for about 15 minutes when my cell phone rang. It was my husband's number. Looking at the time, I realized it was the boy's bed time and they were probably calling to say goodnight. I sent the call to voice mail, as I was almost done with the technician. They called back, I cancelled it again, assuming they maybe thought to leave a message...this wasn't abnormal behaviour for the two of them. Then Rebecca's number called me. I was just finishing up with the tehnician, but my stomach clutched. I cancelled the call and quickly texted "Is everything okay?". I hung up with the technician as rapid fire messages came through.
"No."
"Call."
"Now."
No sooner than that last message hit my screen was I dialing her number, panicking. They were playing a game with jelly beans. Did my son choke? Was everything okay? Did my daughter wake up and something happen? She picked up the phone barely through the first ring and I could hear my husband in the background. The sound made my throat close up.
"What's wrong?" I said.
"Sarah. It's...Joe. He's done something. I don't know what. But...I don't know if he's okay." she said.
"I'm on my way right now," and hung up on her.
I grabbed my things from the office and ran downstairs to get my purse, calling for my boss, Sophia, along the way. She came running out. My mind raced, trying to organize my thoughts, knowing I had to drive and get to my family but not really comprehending what I had just heard on the phone.
"I have to go, there's an emergency." I blurted to her. She ran through the standard questions, is it my husband, is it my kids, what's going on, do you need anything. My mind just went blank and I was hit with the reality of what had just occurred on the phone. "It's Joe. My daughter's Godfather. He's dead."
It was a good day, I thought, as I ran up the stairs to my car, each step bringing me closer to a monster within me that I had no idea existed.
―
If you are a Christian, the Bible has some pretty specific words about it. There is a time for everything, Ecclesiastes 3 says.
I'm tired of time.
Now, if it could stand still, speed up, show us the future....let us live moments of our past over again. If we could figure out how to harness that power, what would you do?
I don't need to know my future, I'm happy where I am. I am thankful for the lessons my past has taught me, regardless of the pain that I felt at the time. Reliving the wonderful moments would be amazing. Sitting on the front porch of my grandmother's house in the hot interior summers, shaded by the giant willows, listening to thunderstorms with her. Running around at the playground behind my uncle's house with my cousins. Riding bikes across McArthur Island with my mom and stopping at the Husky for a slush on the way home. Summer nights on my best friend's grandparents nursery (coupled with snowy days in the winter). The moment I first met my husband, Rob, beach nights in the ocean with my sunshine-girl, scary movie and McDonald's nights with my soul sister. The birth of my son, and how who I was before that day washed away in a wave of emotion as I fell in love with this little creature that had been placed in to my arms.
I could sit here all day and talk about the amazing moments that I would revisit if I could manipulate time. Just to watch my face, the faces of the people I love, smiling, laughing and having fun. I get so overwhelmed with emotion when I think about these moments that I can't help but tear up, because these moments helped form me, create me. Everyone has them.
For every moment that you would revisit, I'm certain there is a moment in time you wish you could forget. Those moments that Mrs.Kennedy references in her thoughts on time and pain are very real, they mold us just as equally as those happy memories do. No matter how much we bury them and the lessons they taught us about ourselves, about others, about the world, they still remain. As humans we so frequently remind ourselves of the bad things that have happened to us, and how we became who we are today by enduring those painful times. Personally, as of late, I am trying my best to not let the bad times define me, especially given the happenings of 2018.
July 13th, 2018, to be more exact.
My nephews, Colton & Carter, the eight year old neighbour girl (whom I watch during the day), Zoey, and my own son, Paxton, had just finished their first week of elementary summer school. For those that don't have summer school for elementary students, it's just a three week curriculum throughout July for half days, to help them keep their brains going but also to help those who may need the extra help. Having those four at home, plus my daughter, Thaida, who was only eighteen months old at the time, and the other neighbour girl, Amelia, who was three and half, it was nice to have the day broken up a bit, especially given nap time is still a strong necessity with the Littles.
I don't remember much from Friday, July 13th, 2018. I remember having a to do list a mile long, with a whole bunch of days off the following week for Rob, and appointments needing to be booked. I got it all done, the girls cooperated, everything was coming up roses. It was a good day! It was a really hot day, so the Bigs were in the pool while the Littles were napping. Rob got home early, and he'd just had a really good day. We had an easy weekend ahead of us, with some birthday celebrations for one of our best friends, Joe, on Sunday. I had to work that night, a youth group sleepover at the church, and the kids had a bit of a cough so we couldn't go to Joe's house on his actual birthday, which was Saturday, because Joe's dad is immunocompromised, so we made an alternate plan with his wife, Nadine. Next I can remember, I'm watching Rob sit back on the patio with a beer in the shade, watching the kids and just giving me this smile of his that I hadn't seen for quite awhile because he had personally been going through some stuff. "I'm so happy today, babe. It's a good day."
It's a good day. Remember what I said earlier about moments and how we look back on them as definitive markers in our lives?
I can't recall where Hubster took Paxton, but they weren't home. I took a chance, and decided to try to put the baby down early so they could have a good evening together. She fell asleep, and I went about getting my things ready to take with me when they got back with the car. I gave them kisses, left my family with our neighbour, Rebecca, and her girls to play a game and went on my way. He was right. It's a good day.
This is where words start to fail me because it's the beginning of the end. The end of my blissful existence, the end of normal. Where I was me. Where, no matter what, my worst day was still nothing in the grand scheme, and I could think of those painful, defining moments, know they exist, but not carry them around with me. How does one put to words when their life changes forever, in a negative way?
I arrived at the church, ready to work, to discover that our internet was down. We needed that to stream movies for the night, so I offered to call the internet company. On my way up I got a message that I didn't really think anything of, and quickly replied to it. I called my Godmother, who works with the church as well, to ask her some questions that I needed before calling the internet company. We had a good chat, and we made soft plans to go to the new water park with my kids. It's a good day, I thought to myself as I hung up the phone with her and dialed the next number.
I had been on the phone with a nice gentleman for about 15 minutes when my cell phone rang. It was my husband's number. Looking at the time, I realized it was the boy's bed time and they were probably calling to say goodnight. I sent the call to voice mail, as I was almost done with the technician. They called back, I cancelled it again, assuming they maybe thought to leave a message...this wasn't abnormal behaviour for the two of them. Then Rebecca's number called me. I was just finishing up with the tehnician, but my stomach clutched. I cancelled the call and quickly texted "Is everything okay?". I hung up with the technician as rapid fire messages came through.
"No."
"Call."
"Now."
No sooner than that last message hit my screen was I dialing her number, panicking. They were playing a game with jelly beans. Did my son choke? Was everything okay? Did my daughter wake up and something happen? She picked up the phone barely through the first ring and I could hear my husband in the background. The sound made my throat close up.
"What's wrong?" I said.
"Sarah. It's...Joe. He's done something. I don't know what. But...I don't know if he's okay." she said.
"I'm on my way right now," and hung up on her.
I grabbed my things from the office and ran downstairs to get my purse, calling for my boss, Sophia, along the way. She came running out. My mind raced, trying to organize my thoughts, knowing I had to drive and get to my family but not really comprehending what I had just heard on the phone.
"I have to go, there's an emergency." I blurted to her. She ran through the standard questions, is it my husband, is it my kids, what's going on, do you need anything. My mind just went blank and I was hit with the reality of what had just occurred on the phone. "It's Joe. My daughter's Godfather. He's dead."
It was a good day, I thought, as I ran up the stairs to my car, each step bringing me closer to a monster within me that I had no idea existed.
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