The Lost Hour
We often say we will do things later or when we have time. The reality is there are only twenty four hours in a day. If we were granted one more hour, what would we do with it? Would it make a difference? Would it make you use the hour to the best of your ability or would you be back in a place, wanting more time?
I think of the moment I heard my grandmother died. I knew she was sick and in the hospital, but I thought she was getting better. I booked my trip to London for work and a weekend trip with my friends to Barcelona. I guess I just thought, she would live longer. The woman was incapable of dieing unless it was on her own terms.
The first scare we had was a few years ago. She was waiting for her ride home and she said she started to feel the world go black while she was watching one of the judge reality shows. She pressed the emergency button. As the story goes she flat lined twice and the doctors managed to revive her. At that moment, the doctors realized how badly the lupus affected her ability to pump her heart with ease and circulation. A pacemaker was placed in her heart soon after. This bought us a few more years with her that we otherwise would not have had. She was on borrowed time. I wonder what she felt about that lost hour when her heart stopped. Did time pass quickly for her or was it in slow motion?
Recently I have made time for meditation via Yoga. I think sometimes this is where my lost hour went. I feel I find myself when I take the time to breathe. If I had only taken an extra hour to call her, to make a decision in that split moment to not go on vacation with friends. Would I have had time to tell her even more that I loved her? I told her before I left that I forgive her. I told her I loved her, but it does not seem to be enough time or I love yous to tell someone before they die. I heard she seemed as if she was waiting for something before she died. She would not let go because she was waiting, perhaps for me for one final goodbye? That must have been a very long hour for her. This is my lost hour.
I think of the moment I heard my grandmother died. I knew she was sick and in the hospital, but I thought she was getting better. I booked my trip to London for work and a weekend trip with my friends to Barcelona. I guess I just thought, she would live longer. The woman was incapable of dieing unless it was on her own terms.
The first scare we had was a few years ago. She was waiting for her ride home and she said she started to feel the world go black while she was watching one of the judge reality shows. She pressed the emergency button. As the story goes she flat lined twice and the doctors managed to revive her. At that moment, the doctors realized how badly the lupus affected her ability to pump her heart with ease and circulation. A pacemaker was placed in her heart soon after. This bought us a few more years with her that we otherwise would not have had. She was on borrowed time. I wonder what she felt about that lost hour when her heart stopped. Did time pass quickly for her or was it in slow motion?
Recently I have made time for meditation via Yoga. I think sometimes this is where my lost hour went. I feel I find myself when I take the time to breathe. If I had only taken an extra hour to call her, to make a decision in that split moment to not go on vacation with friends. Would I have had time to tell her even more that I loved her? I told her before I left that I forgive her. I told her I loved her, but it does not seem to be enough time or I love yous to tell someone before they die. I heard she seemed as if she was waiting for something before she died. She would not let go because she was waiting, perhaps for me for one final goodbye? That must have been a very long hour for her. This is my lost hour.
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