Natural Order

How much of our lives are lived too late?  At one point does wisdom gained from living life come too late to make things good again?  I wonder sometimes if that is the nature of wisdom, that wisdom is nothing more than lessons learned too late to have value, at least as it relates to the past.  That is the great sadness about the nature of time: it moves in only one direction.  It almost seems cruel that time would have such a construction.  How unkind it is not to have even a single do-over.

Or is regret something else entirely?  Do we get stuck on this idea of how things should be that we fail to appreciate what is right in front of us?  I can't help but to feel like maybe we chase so many silly things in life, leaving the important things ignored.  We can so easily become so fixated on this vision on our heads, this idealized version of happiness that keeps us grasping for things that only fleetingly provide us joy.

"If only I get that promotion...if only I get that raise...if only I get that degree...if only I get that new car...THEN people will finally realize I am worthy," we tell ourselves.

And then everything changes, it all ends suddenly, with no premonition, with no warning.  The world becomes cleaved between the Time Before and the Time After.  Then it all becomes so frighteningly clear, so personally real.  All the time you wasted living your life, wasting your life, being selfish.  I can't stop hating myself for wasting so much time.  I am not sure that feeling will ever go away.

It hurts to remember.  It hurts to feel this emptiness, this hollow echo inside of me.  I still dream about her.  I hear her voice in my dreams and it stays with me for days afterward.  I wonder if she is ok.  I wonder if she still exists in a place other than my memories.  I wonder if death is simply the end or if there is Heaven.  I hope she is there, somewhere.  I hope she is happy.  I hope she knows how much I miss her.