One of my favorite singers, Eydie Gorme, sang a song so thought-provoking that several years ago I wrote out the lyrics and filed them in a manila folder under “Time”, which was the name of her song.
She sang, “Back when I was young and summer was forever, ‘good’ was your first name.”
For most people, good times fill the youthful years, along with hope for a happy future. I love looking at this picture of Nate taken in early 1971, because seeing him there in our first apartment, dressed as he is, floods my mind with good-time-memories. I can even remember the tickle of his mustache when he kissed me. It seemed as if we were playing house while he finished law school and I taught first grade. Although we had very little in the way of possessions or money, we had priceless fun together. It was all good times.
And then the clock began moving, ticking even as we slept. Nate graduated, we moved, he became a lawyer, I became a stay-at-home mommy. The kids grew up, went to college, moved away and made us proud. We had weddings and then grandchildren. And in what seemed like a quick minute, time ended, at least for Nate. And my time as his wife ended, too.
Eydie sang, “Time, when did you begin trading your tomorrows for worn out just-todays?”
In mid-winter of this year, when I’d been a widow for three months, I remember sitting in a chair at twilight, my hands in my lap, doing absolutely nothing but listening to the tick-tock of a wall clock. Immobilized by sadness, I didn’t know what to do next. It seemed appropriate to just “be” and to listen to time slipping away. I was worn out by grief, and life had morphed into a series of “worn out just-todays.”
The wall clock is still ticking, but I’m feeling much better these days. Sitting in a chair doing nothing isn’t something I want anymore. I remember Mom saying, as a new widow, “Life will never be the same.” That statement seems obvious, but I think I know the deeper meaning of what she was trying to say: “Without my beloved, life will never be good again.”
I’m sure that thought floats through the mind of every new widow or widower who has had a satisfying marriage. It dominated my thinking for a long time, too. But I no longer agree with Mom on that. Although life can’t ever be the same again because Nate is gone, it can become good again. I know I’ll never stop wondering what today, tomorrow or next year would have been like had Nate remained with us, but today, tomorrow and next year can hold spectacular blessings and positive surprises. Three new grandbabies have already proven that.
Eydie sang, “Time, you rolled into years, years that left me walking, when you began to fly.”
Time is definitely flying, and I may be walking rather than running, but sometimes a long walk can turn out to be a really good time.
“The race is not to the swift or the battle to the strong… but time and chance happen to them all.” (Eccl. 9:11)
