Tuesday 5 July 2011

05-07-2011

It’s been 3 years. Just 36 months. The time it takes to do a degree. The length of the warranty on a car. The length of time to perhaps pay off a lounge suite.
How far have I travelled in 36 months? 150 000km by road and 50 000 by air?
How many meals have I eaten? 3285?
How many sunsets have I looked at? Not seen. Looked at. Maybe 3?
How many sunrises over the water have I enjoyed? Maybe 2?
How many harsh words have I spoken and written?
How many kind?

How has it mattered that I lived while you died?
Did I think that because it was you in the accident and not me Kirst, that it somehow matters? That I survived and not you? How has it mattered? That I escaped Fate’s cruel blow and you didn’t? When Plato spoke through Socrates about those that avoid death at all costs, he said: they think it will be a dreadful thing to lose their lives; as though they would be immortal if you did not put them to death (at that time)

Truth be told, I have not being worthy of this gift. I have wasted and squandered minutes and hours and days. Were you here you would have chastised me to suck in the very air I breathe, greedily and with vigour, knowing that every breath is a second chance.
And so I ask 2 things now: forgiveness from you and then the God who every moment of every day gives me life and holds me in being. That I may recall your memory and His presence which call me to account, especially in the midst of my distracted forgetfulness. As Boethius put it: we earthly creatures dream of our origin, however faint the vision.
And secondly that you pray for us that we may always head towards that true Good, the source of our life and its journey’s end. Rest in peace, dearest Kirstin. You are so very deeply missed. Until we meet again.

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