He asked me "What's the rush?"
And I couldn't help but spill over with answer:
"My mom died years ago, and my younger brother just died last spring. I get one change, one shot with my kids. That's the rush."
He didn't seem to understand. Muttered something about God's promises for my kids through his obvious shock.
"I know that's more than you expected from a PT appointment. Sorry."
I could feel his awkwardness so I quickly laughed and switched subjects.
What's the rush? To getting better? To ending a year and a half of pain and canceled plans and forced smiles? What's the rush to living life as fully as possible?
The rush is death.
The rush is knowing life without a mom.
The rush is knowing children without a father.
The rush is wanting to do it well.
The rush is the dream of motherhood and marraige, always fragil and knowing it can be swiftly sifted away at any moment.
Because the rush is death; ending. And knowing too well the pain of those living on earth on this side of the ending, the death. Though heaven awaits the dead, earth stems out like a bumbling road for those left behind.
