Passing of Time

This is a wonderful shot of Pam in South America in the early 70's.
It has been a month now, though it feels like moments ago. My perception of time is altered as I struggle with my grief, an hour feels like seconds, a month takes the time to exhale, a day seems to be an eternity of emotional turmoil. The world seems to have moved on, the leaves are starting to turn, the mornings are crisp, fall is almost here, people are going about their lives as if nothing has changed. Yet nothing is the same.
Everything has turned into slow motion at the speed of light. Both my head and heart are rebelling against the fact she is gone.
Somewhere in my core of being as if acting as a referee or sensorium, I know that this is my process to becoming grounded again, centered and at peace, to live each moment as it comes regardless of the pain or joy.
I hope that eventually I will be able to move on as everything around me has. I have no idea how long it will take or how it will turn out, I only know now how painful the process is.
To come to terms with loss, yet have lost nothing.

My gratitude today is to Gordon Herzig a dear friend I first met in 1974. I was a studio potter then, he worked with stained glass. I made him a dinner ware set, he set stained glass in a large round window of mine, a good trade. We both still have the pieces.
We met again 11 years ago and picked up where we left off and have had many sailing adventures in both our sailboats. This past weekend he suggested we cruise the Columbia river for the weekend, which we did. All the way to Stevensen Washington, through the Bonneville locks twice, a first for us both, Jack as well.
For his unending patience, intuition, culinary skills and bluntness as only Gordon can pull off which helped me be present and in the moment.