It's daylight saving time which use to mean I'd have to recalculate in my head the time in which I'd make my phone calls to my brother who lived in Arizona. To make it easier I'd keep one of the clocks in the house set for Arizona time, brilliant, huh? They don't follow the national norm of "spring ahead, fall behind" which meant I never had to change the time on my "Arizona clock".
After my father died my mother gave me the old "cuckoo" clock that hung in our (childhood) home. I can remember my father winding it every 30 days and the sound of the chimes it made every hour on the hour. 1 chime for one o'clock, 2 chimes for two o'clock and so on. I'd lay in bed at night and count each tone, its resonance reverberating through the house. There was something comforting in hearing the peaceful tune of the chimes as a child, even as an adult I found it to be reassuring.
A few years back it stopped working, and I miss that song I had longingly waited to hear and that had rang out for so many years. I kept it hanging even after it broke, its song missed, replaced by silence but its presence still somewhat comforting.
After my brother died that clock became more than my "Arizona clock", it became my everyday reminder of him and while time stood still on it now, it reminded me there was no promise of any future for my brother. Time had stopped. During that time I found myself stuck, stuck in a moment of despair. It seemed and felt like there was no moving forward for me either. I had lost one of my best friends.
It wasn't until one night that changed, one night when something unexpected occurred.
TO BE CONTINUED ON NEXT POST....
