If I Could Hitch a Ride On a Time Machine 🎵

"If I could hitch a ride on a time machine,

I would bring you right back here with me,

And I wouldn't have to watch you disappear.

Even though I said all of the things that mattered most,

While I held on tight to the end of the rope,

I could keep you close but I couldn't keep you here.

A lot can happen in a year."

🎵 -Three Six Five, Shinedown 🎵

I just heard this new song on the radio and it caught my ear. First, because I love Shinedown, then second because of the lyrics... A lot can happen in a year. That line is such an understatement for what happened when I was 29. In October, my mom had her first symptom. Nothing dramatic - just a cough. By January, she was sitting in a room hearing the kind of diagnosis that instantly divided my life into before and after. By March, she was gone. 

Five months. That's all it took to turn my world, my hopes, my dreams, my truth - upside down.

And the thing is - I did say all the things that mattered most. I didn't leave words unsaid. But I still would have given anything not to have watched her fade - to keep her here. "While I held on tight to the end of the rope" - that's exactly what it felt like. I was gripping the last strand of the life I knew, and no matter how tightly I clung to it, I couldn't stop the unraveling. 

I would give anything for that time machine. 

I would pause life. 

I would ask more questions. 

I would hold her hand for five more minutes. 

I would hug her one more time. 

I would tell her again and again how much I love her, how much she taught me, and how I didn't know who I was without her but that I'd try my best to figure it out.

That's what the last 365 days have been, and the 365 days before that, and the 365 before that. Trying. Figuring. Falling apart and piecing myself back together again. Finding ways to live in a world she's no longer in.

When I heard this song, it felt like someone else had lived it too. The helplessness... the holding on... the heartbreak of not being able to keep them here - no matter how hard you try. 

A lot can happen in a year. And somehow, I've survived 3 of them already without her. I've learned you can lose someone, learn how to grieve, and slowly begin to rebuild your life. You can discover the strength and resilience you never asked for and didn't know you were capable of. 

But all that aside - I still wish for that time machine every single day.