The Enemy by Marshall Thrasher
I know everyone deals with grief differently but my loss makes it abundantly clear that time is the enemy.
I like most of you had a romantic dream of going to sleep in my wife’s arms when we were 100 years old.
That clearly isn’t how things worked out.
I feel like I am holding a broken hourglass trying my hardest to stop the grains of sand from rushing out.
Trying to save as many moments as possible for my new love.
So, where do I go from here?
Passionately, painfully, sometimes recklessly, unselfishly towards love so no moment is wasted.
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