This is the next in the series of transcriptions from my journal, written during the last year of Dave's life.
Midnight.
A day full of awareness of the passage of time.
Attending Katie’s wedding—them so young and Dave in a walker.
Then Bryan brought a friend to buy the tractor and take it home with
him and he brought his two children, ages 8 and 4, who called Dave
“the old man” and me grandma.
Then Davie, Bryan’s oldest friend, posted a video taken at the
race track on September 1, 1985, when we were all, those of us who
are old now, the same ages as our children are today—in the primes
of our lives and looking it, but having no awareness of being there.
Just like our children do not have now.
I think I would give something to feel that strong blood moving
again, but my soul is occupied these days with shedding a body no
longer worthy of it, one that can no longer participate in that kind
of glory.
But we had it, that glory. Full, ripe, and bursting with juice. Oh,
we had it.
image: sharonreed.me
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