Would Have Beens

Bless me, Father, for I have lived


Sorry, old Catholic verse creeping in. I’ll give them one thing, the Papists, they do have a knack for cadence—there’s a catchy pop-hook in all the more popular bits of Lectionary. Anyhoo, today marks an anniversary that always leaves me feeling accelerated. Hyper, maybe, is a better word. But at the end of the day—at the end of every nostalgic and every immediate burst—it all balances out. For every high, there’s a low, for every lofty abstraction there’s a concrete anchor to the here-and-now.

Having sufficiently buried the lead in terms of copy and voice, I’ll say that today would have been Allen’s 47th birthday. Strange to think of him that old. Strange to think of him not here, as well. See what I mean? Antipodal emotions. I wrote about him last year, and it does not seem a year has passed since then. It does not seem that 9 1/2 years have passed since he died. It does not seem we only had a little over two years together in the same house.

It does not seem less than two years since I met Sam. It does not seem fewer than forever, either.

Which just goes to show that Time is best measured by the heart and not the calendar, relative to now, instead of relative to then or relative to the luxury known as “some day”.

Now is forever, and the past is mutable. The future is probably fixed, but unknown, which is tantamount to mutable.

Noodle on that one for a while, and give a nod towards Allen, if you would, and towards everyone you have lost, even towards those who may have lost you.

But, jesus-skateboarding-christ, don’t let it disrupt your Now.