This moment in time will never be mine again.
As much as one struggles to hold onto the happy moments, they burst like a bubble ... though some last longer than others.
The awful moments seem to feel more like a balloon. Some balloons burst suddenly and with great flourish and they are nothing more than the withered shell that once held air.
Then there are the balloons that simply grow old and shrivel up very, very slowly. So slowly that you don't even realize that it is happening. Over time, they become quite small but there is still that pocket of air encased in a protective shell that becomes harder to burst, the longer it lasts. The air within the balloon can shift and move about ... yet the outer shell becomes more dense and the air will never burst out with a flourish unless it is trapped into a 'corner' and forced.
Grief and sorrow are like that unpopped balloon. There is always that little pocket of sorrow that moves and shifts about in our life and catches us when we least expect it. It withers up but never bursts in its entirety.
We simply don't realize how fortunate we are when life's sorrows burst open suddenly and unexpectedly and leave nothing but a shell in their wake.
We strive to hold those moments of joy tightly yet the best we can do is take pictures of those moments with our hearts and cherish the memory. Those moments are but a bubble and don't last forever.
At times of sorrow, we collect all of the memories of those 'bubbles' within our lives and hold them close to our hearts ... cherishing all of those 'bubbles' that we have collected in our collective memory banks.
To a dear, dear family that has touched my heart in ways that you will never fully know ... "may you be bathing in a bubble bath as your balloon of sorrow has been filling up with air that has yet to be released".