When Nothing’s Happened Yet

Dearest Rachel –

I have to assume that the concept of time is meaningless to you at this point. There is no night, as I understand it, since God Himself is everywhere, and lights up heaven wherever He is, so there is no differentiating between days, or even from any one point of time to another.

That being said, however…

I wonder if you’re ever curious as to why I generally tend to reach out to you first thing in the morning like this. In life, when I would wake up before you (which was basically every day other than when we would travel, especially to the island), I would let you sleep (as you would’ve been up for hours after I went to bed) and stayed as silent as possible between when I would wake up and you would (or only might, as too many days began with my leaving for work before you really attained consciousness) follow suit. And when you did wake up, there really wasn’t that much conversation to be had; what’s to be said about the day or night before, when we both experienced it together?

So, why am I trying to talk to you at this hour, when nothing’s really happened yet? What’s there for me to fill you in on (particularly if I haven’t had any interesting dreams to relate to you)? An uncharitable view might be that I’m trying to get it out of the way, handling an obligation so that I’m free to do whatever for the rest of the day.

And, in all fairness, there may be some truth to that. The thing is, the quiet of the morning is the best time for me to get something like this done. Sure, there are the events of the day yet to happen – and I’ll want to let you know about them when they take place – but usually, by the end of the day, I’m worn out, and in no shape to put together an essay about them. You remember those days; I would come home from work, have dinner with the two of you, and as we would sit in our various plush seats watching this or that (and the two of you would be playing or doing whatever you were doing on your various computers), I would, as likely as not, nod completely off. Whatever I might have had to say about the day (and to be honest, I never wanted to talk about my work day in any rate – I always thought that at best, what I did for a living would be boring to those who weren’t a part of the profession, and at worst, I just didn’t want to relive that or any other day there) was either covered as we ate, or lost as exhaustion took me out. There’s a lot I never told you – and, I suspect, a lot you never got to tell me (or that I either missed or forgot).

That’s why I still try to keep up with these daily letters, even though there may not be much to tell you about in a given morning, and even while being fully aware that it’s a case of ‘too little, too late.’ Stuff still needs to be said and recorded, while I’ve a mind to do so. I’m just sorry I didn’t manage to do enough back in the day.

Then again, were words always necessary? Did it need to be written down then, as we were interacting face-to-face? It didn’t seem like it at the time; indeed, even during the trip to Israel this past month, I was painfully aware of how much time I was spending with my face in my phone, writing down my thoughts, rather than interacting with others. You can’t have a reasonable conversation when you’re busy dictating everything, and yet, that conversation evaporates into the mists of memory if it’s not written down. It’s a difficult line to walk, and one where neither side is an ideal choice.

At least for now, I have the time to record my thoughts, without feeling like I’m giving someone short shrift. Daniel’s busy listening to some online preacher, so I’d just as soon not disturb him (or listen to the guy, to be honest, but I can’t bring myself to have him not listen to what he wants to). Kris is just beginning her work around the house, so I’m staying out of her way as she works. It’s an ideal time to keep to myself and reach out to you.

Sure, there are plans I have for the day. I really need to get started on wrapping for Christmas, for one thing (and while I’ve made great progress in shopping, I miss having you around to put these things together – you always enjoyed doing this, in a way I never could nor will). Somewhat more significantly, I need to take Daniel to the bank and get him set up with his own checking account; your estate seems to finally have been settled, so now it’s time that he took care of his own few bills going forward. There would probably be very little more to say about the setup process at the end of the day, so I’m telling you about it now, just in case I don’t manage to fill you in on the actual details later on. Beyond that, I can’t think of much else that likely to happen today that you would need – or even want – to know about. If there’s a misadventure that ensues, you’ll be the first to know, but really, how often does that happen?

Still, with that in mind, keep an eye on us, and wish us luck. We’re probably going to need it, regardless.

Published by randy@letters-to-rachel.memorial

I am Rachel's husband. Was. I'm still trying to deal with it. I probably always will be.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: