I took my calendar apart today to see what was wrong with it. It read three years next month and I thought, that just can't be right. I took down the kitchen clock and gave it a good shaking but it didn't change its mind.

What had I done in three years?

I sat and stared out the window, wondering how I could have survived so long alone . . . not totally of course but without that constancy of a mate.

Things with my family -- birthdays, holidays, phone calls etc. A few get-togethers with friends although not many left now, and a number of medical adventures best left forgotten; how many of those moments would I get to experience again.

My phone rang and my youngest grandson said he wanted to come down and tell me all his good news. Then I received an email from my eldest granddaughter telling me I was about to become a great grandfather. Both these events coming at a time when I was questioning time itself.

How thrilling it would have been to share that news . . . three years. So long, so fast . . . and now . . .

I looked at the calendar and the clock again and they just stared back, immune to the fact that I still needed more from both of them to be able to experience these new events and share in my children's joy.