Friday, November 4, 2011

Voice Mail

My brother left a message on my answering machine just days before he unexpectedly passed away. It has been nearly four months since we said goodbye. The messages have been piling up. I didn't want to delete his message, but I wasn't courageous enough to listen for it as I deleted the others. I have been waiting for the “right time.” I tend to do that a lot. I put things off in hopes that I will somehow be stronger or more emotionally prepared for the task. Many of those things are left undone. The answering machine wouldn't wait. With only seconds of recording time left, I knew it was time to do the listening – ready or not.
So I listened. It was as if he were phoning me anew. His voice was the same as I remembered – the same inflections, the same pauses, the same dry wit.
The time was right. The message, itself really of no import, brought joy rather than the anticipated pain.
Aren't we blessed to have the gift of time? It truly does heal all wounds. With time, pain lessens and memories become sweeter.
Blessed, too, are we to have the gift of technology. It can help us embrace our gift of time.

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