It’s strange to think that that much time has passed—to the day from that day.
I’ll never forget that ill-fated call that came from my dad, telling me to get home as quickly as I could.
I remember driving that long, arduous journey, and the reflections I had while making the road trip back over a twelve-hour period, the miles stretching away beneath the tires as I pushed northward.
I recalled the next few weeks, and the events that transpired while I was away from home: the laughter, the tears, and the hollow emptiness that was left behind in its torturous wake.
Each and every one of us is limited.
Our days are numbered.
When will play that final coda of the symphony known as life?
Nobody knows. For each of us, it’s different.
Our lives are controlled by the complex workings of the hands of fate, and her infinite wisdom of mortal coil.
Today, I’m going to head to the canyons I love so much—my second home, if you will. I will play the music I seldom listen to because of its incredible power to bring back the events of those days with crystalline clarity. I will stay as long as I want and again feel the moments.
But the one moment I still wish to find, is hope.
I love you, Mom.
