Time's dimensions

On 24 February 2021, the last of my Dad's siblings died. My Aunt Sheila, who, if I could be said to have a second mother, was surely mine, died from complications of multiple strokes at age 85. Her funeral was this past Tuesday. On my way home, I drove through South Weber, the town where I lived my first 10 years and my Mom's hometown. I drove from where my aunt lived, using South Weber Drive- the route we used to go back-and-forth to my aunt's house- past our old house. Once again, I had the acute perception of just how quickly time passes and how fleeting are our lives, even when we live to be "old."

With my Aunt Sheila's death, not only have my Dad and all his brothers and sisters passed away, so have all their spouses, except my Mom. The day after my aunt's funeral was my Mom's eightieth birthday. I am blessed that my Mom looks great, feels great, and is in very good health. Tonight, my sisters and I are celebrating her birthday with her!

My Dad, me, my older sister, and my Mom

As I was pondering all of this in my heart, I was struck by the stark fact that a whole generation of my family is now gone. Corny as it may sound, it gave me a renewed sense of responsibility and purpose. I am grateful that I was born into my family. While I've always been a bit incomprehensible to members of both my immediate and extended families, I have always been loved and accepted as belonging. I have come to see that this is no small thing in life. Nonetheless, I took it for granted for most of my life, which is also a blessing of sorts.

After my aunt's visitation on Monday evening, I was able to stay up late looking at photo albums my Mom has been putting together during her pandemic isolation. It was a great experience, a bittersweet one. The photo above (a photo of a photo) had to have been taken in 1967 or 1968. At 55 it's weird to see photos of my parents and think "Man, they were so young." I think the same thing when I see pictures of my wife and me from 20-25 years ago.

What is "now" if not the intersection of the past and the future? Where/what is "nowhere" but "now here"? "Nothing" is not an empty concept.

Today is a beautiful early Spring day here along the Wasatch Front of the Rocky Mountains. It's one of those days that makes believing in resurrection relatively easy. Our traditio for this Second Friday of Lent is Madness's Our House, what else?