When life ends

Twenty six years in Madison and 160 miles of road between here and home. How many times have I driven that stretch to Antigo and why is the road always under construction? I wonder if the reason the highway is six lanes is so two can always be closed?

In Aaron's life we probably drove to and from Antgo 100 times. The family conversations, and questions about things they saw along the way leave landmark memories for the entire trip. The travel is a bitter sweet memorial journey. How many times do you think I had glanced in the rear view mirror to see their smiling, pouting, crying, laughing, sleeping faces? A gadzillion or two. Rear view mirrors are made for holding the faces of kids. Their emptiness tells a sad story the way the unused chair at a table whispers "I'm gone".

Accept it. No. How can everything be so much the same everywhere? Photographs and memories burn and I just insulate my heart to make the trip. My jaw aches from clenching. My head hurts from remembering. There is no comfort in traveling the gauntlet.

A radio talk program featured a conversation on death. According to the voices, at the time of death we relive our entire life in an instant. All of the places, all of the people, all of the smells, and feelings are experienced one more time to let us know where we will be in God's heaven. Oh, geeze, one more time with purpose! When life ends, will that then please be the last time I relive all of the memories? When life ends.