Time.

Time

Time can be really rude. It has no respect for anyone but itself. Unlike a good friend, it won’t wait for you until you are ready. (“Just five more minutes!” you say, but to no response.) And it won’t slow its pace as you try to catch up.

It just keeps on going. With or without your permission, it moves on, unapologetically and without regard for who or what it leaves in its shadow.

There have been many moments in my life over the last two years that have stalled my breath. How is it possible that it has already been one month? How is it possible that it has already been six months? A whole year? Two years?! How.is.that.possible?

Today marks the start of a season of those moments in our family. This is the day, one year ago, when we lost one of the best friends this world has ever seen. He was the epitome of brotherly friendship – he checked in when no one else would. He called things how he saw them. He was unafraid of inserting himself into any situation, because he just assumed he was the same as family. He was a brother to my husband – best friends since kindergarten. He called me “Sis.”

He would be very proud of our Preston, his namesake.

No, time won’t wait for any of us, but in many ways it is best that it doesn’t. We are all here but a short while, and regardless of how many days we are allotted, my hope is that we learn to number them, to recognize that each and every one is filled with the potential to leave a mark on this earth that no one else can create and time cannot undo.

Ernest Preston Walker, thank you for modeling to me what true friendship and brotherhood/sisterhood should look like. Thank you for reminding me that there is no time like the present to be obnoxiously passionate about serving others. Thank you for leaving marks on this earth that no one but you could’ve created and time will never undo.