Lost Upon The Sea Of Time

There are times when I really miss our daughter Jenny. In so many ways, our brief time with her, which once seemed so protracted and difficult, is now like a dream. But occasionally something will happen to bring her back to my mind with a remarkable clarity and presence. And in such moments she still lives, and we are together once more in all the pleasantness of childhood.

That happened not long ago when my wife Mary showed me a card that she had made in 1980. With tears in her voice, she handed me the card and said, "See, Jenny really was here; this proves it." On the card, one large owl and three smaller ones are sitting on a branch. Their bodies are actually our fingerprints embellished with the necessary features to fill out their forms.

The smallest owl is son Barrett's pinkie at age seven weeks, and Jenny (age eight) is beside him on the branch. No matter how fuzzy her memory becomes, she was with us, and her little owl reverses the clock. Our family unit still faced many years of difficult struggle, but that didn't matter. Inseparable, we were a happy little band.

But the absence ushered in by Jenny's death in late 1995 has removed much of the tangible reality of her life. My not being able to physically behold her each day has eroded much of what was once so clear, undeniable, and seemingly unforgettable.

Though she was with us for almost 23 years, there are even some days now in which I actually don't think of her. In a sense, she, and all the trappings and circumstances of her life, is adrift in my mind. There are those sobering flashbacks, however, when something as simple as the little owl revives her with a voice as fresh as if nothing had ever changed.

In such interludes she is somehow anchored, and time has momentarily paused. Seeing the card was such an occasion, a reminder that death will ultimately affect every human relationship. And no matter how close I have been to family and friends in life, I too will eventually begin a relentless drift away from them. How important it is to let down some "anchors" now -- by investing in their lives while I have the chance.

THE SEA OF TIME

What once was near in bygone days,
Relentlessly has slipped away
'Til what was real (and surely mine)
Is lost upon the sea of time.

Relationships I then held dear
Engaged my heart without the fear
That Death would ever intervene
To plunge the real into a dream.

But, unexpectedly He came
To exercise His prior claim,
Compelling me to loose the line
And launch her on the sea of time.

Occasionally, there'll be a trace
That brings her fresh before my face --
An anchor in the sea of time --
Reminding me that she was mine.

Copyright 1999 James McAlister

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