There are moments in life where it feels like things are moving rapidly and glacially at the same time.
The summer between high school and college. The time between my engagement to Kaylin and our wedding. The time between college graduation and my first job. The (many times) between career changes. The times between moving from coast to coast.
I’m currently in the middle of one of these periods—a new shift in the paradigm of my life; the time between not being a father and being a father.
More than that, Kaylin and I are in a painful and magical moment right now. It’s been about a week since her father passed away after a decades-long battle with multiple sclerosis. In about a week from now our son will be born into this wild world.
In another bizarre moment between moments, we welcomed a brand new niece into the family hours after Kaylin’s father passed away.
This week, this month, is built of compounding moments in the middle of other moments. Time is moving so quickly and so slowly. Waves of grief and sadness are replaced with hope and excitement. Death is balanced by new life. Loss and gain are counterbalanced within hours, weeks.
We’re healing. We’re planning. We’re relaxing, because this last week of pregnancy is difficult.
Soon, we’ll get to meet our son. I know the moments between moments will only shorten and lengthen in their own unique ways.
The start of this decade has been painful. And joyful. We don’t know what is in store in an hour, a week, a month or a year from now. But it’s sure to be filled with new experiences—here’s hoping that the joyful moments outshine the moments that devastate us.
