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Beanie Blog #15
February 10, 2024 Time
I am often lost in my brain thinking about life and time. Now, at age 70, I have more life behind me than ahead of me. Some days it weighs heavily, other days it brings joy. Joy, because of my memories along the journey. Joy, because no one prefers the alternative to aging. Having recently attended the burial of a dear, close friend, I was reminded of our time on this earth and how fleeting it is. This is our time--now. For others, their time has passed. I am often reminded of the cycle of life and how generations and decades later, life comes full circle. I've attended weddings where the young happy couple dance into their future together, while the grandmother sits and watches them with bittersweet love. She remembers the man she loved who is gone and is reminded that their time together has passed, while the newlyweds time together has just begun. I have attended funerals where families gather to grieve, while the children run and play at the luncheon, bursting toward their futures without fear or hesitation. Their time is just beginning, while another's has ended. I have heard so many people say to me, "If I had known that our time together was so short, I would have made more out of it." Make more out if it anyway! No matter how much time you think you have, because life is not about how many breaths we take, but those moments that take our breath away. (Yes, I borrowed that from a greeting card) At my age I take more time to reflect on my life and the one thing that keeps moving me forward is this: I am still here, my time has not passed, and each day is a gift. Making the most of those days is the key to happiness. You don't have to write a bestseller or make a million dollars--no. I can rejoice in reading to my granddaughter until she falls asleep in my arms. Those are the moments that you will remember when you realize that the sand in your hourglass keeps flowing no matter what, so why not make it a memorable journey? That is exactly what I am trying to do. My sister died at age 56 and I still have not adjusted to or accepted a world without her in it, but what haunts me the most is all the memories she never made with her children and grandchildren. She now has a great-granddaughter and will never know her. My sister's time has passed, but I rejoice that she lives on in her family. Losing Petra reaffirmed in me a desire to live life to the fullest and make as many memories as I can. For one day, my granddaughter will sit at my funeral and mourn that my time has passed. But she will rejoice in the many memories that we made. Get out there. No matter how old you are and make memories before the hourglass runs out. Time is the most precious gift we are given. And if I haven't told you lately that I love you and am glad you are part of my life, I'm telling you now! Live, laugh, love. It's the only way to spend time.
Sabina (Beanie) Boston
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