Tempus Fugit

“Time flies.” It’s an observation old enough that we have record of Virgil using it. Time does indeed fly. It flies past and is gone, irretrievably, to the past.

I’m feeling a little melancholy today. Today is the 17th anniversary of my sister’s death. And it feels especially poignant to me because this year the 23rd fell on a Friday, just like it did in 2009, when she died. Seventeen years. She was six weeks shy of her 19th birthday. So next year will be the last anniversary of her death before she will have been dead longer than she was a live. That is a really strange thing to think about and hard to wrap my brain around.

And my son Andrew would have been 13 this year. Death sucks.