Passing, page 1

When I visit her, in her lonely house, with her loving cat, I see the evidence on her face.

Time has taken away the smiling vibrant woman I knew. I want to grab her and take her back to some place she knew... a place that was better... her home where her mother and sisters are. They're all there.... on the farm. I see her as the young girl, but through the smoke of her cigarette, I snap back and remember, the clock is ticking.

So may of those lines have my name on them. So many times I've hurt her without wanting to, always regretting when I do. It was her birthday, I was angry at her for getting old. Angry that she is one year closer to leaving me. My best friend is going to leave and I want to grab her cigarette and ask her to stay just that much longer....one cigarette's worth longer.

My birthday is coming soon...we share the same month. I can't stop the clock. I've wasted so much time, and have had so much taken from me. For years I fought an illness. I'm better now and things are going great. But I can't stop looking at the clock. I wish I could go back and start over and take her with me.

I promised her I would live. "You first", I said. She won't suffer another loved one dying. She's retreated enough from this world...I won't accept her living through another loss.

People lose so much...so many people lose so much.

I look at the clock. I think of all the things I 'must do'. All of the things I want to see. The love of a woman again...not these casual encounters that leave me feeling emptier. Not these failed attempts with broken personalities and hearts.

There's more money to make, more 'business' for me to do. Get there...be more...live more...be 'successful. I'm constantly struggling to make up for lost days in doctor's offices and ER rooms years ago, and some of my supposed 'best years' being sucked from my existence.

Be more....tic toc.....do more....life is running....catch up.

I can't stop time. Time hurts. Time is a curse. The older you get, the more it speeds up. It touches your shoulder and whispers in your ear...."I'm still here".

I want to see my mother back on the farm...where she's young again and I can hear her laugh like she used to. I want to stop it all with a desperation that gives me nightmares. I wake up in a sweat and look at the clock...obsessing about the month....the year. Thinking that I should be somewhere...be 'someone'...not this person that time stole from.

I cried for the first time in months....about time..this quiet abomination, slowly chopping away, bit by bit.

I just want to go back and do it different...and I know she feels the same. I would do anything for her, but I can't stop this. I can't undo what's been done...and I can't promise another day. Nothing is promised.