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.