Each second, breath like grains in the hourglass

Going back home is never the same once you leave.
There is always a change; always a memory lurking in every corner to render nostalgic feelings. There is always a “ghost” to remind us of the impermanence of life. We all have ghost; some friendly, others haunting.
These phantasms do not linger in the crevices of darkened rooms or wait for nightfall to go “bump.” They’re the spooks of the mind, and they touch our hearts whenever we see old photos or hear old songs and think of times past and those removed from time’s side of life.
I’ll never forget Arthur Hagan. I was at a point in my life where I could’ve either went left or right. This brother always made sure that me and my little sister had a ride to church on Sunday and Bible study on Wednesday and whatever else in between. I had no excuse to go astray thanks to people like him.
As a kid, I would always tell him “Thanks for the ride,” but as a man, who appreciated his helping hand in my life, I never told him “Thank you.” I’ll never forget the day I got the news that he had drowned at Bayou Signette in an accident while fishing with his son.
I’ll always remember my boy Eugene. People would say he was one of the “dirtiest white boys in school.” But he was one of the few people who didn’t mind hanging with me at lunch and in between class when the other “brothers” didn’t think I was “down” enough or the “sisters” didn’t want to talk because, at the time, I couldn’t dress. Eugene wasn’t much to look at on the outside; I can’t even lie. But on the inside, he had a heart of pure gold.
The last time I saw him, I was walking home late one night. He and his then-fiancée (now widow) were sitting in the back of a truck by his house gazing at the stars. I didn’t want to disturb them, so I kept walking. That was it. He was accidentally electrocuted a few years ago while working at the shipyard. He was a true friend, and I never thanked him for being one.
How could I forget Daryl. He was a clown. I grew up in the church with him. Inside Daryl had a warring duality; part of him wanted to do right, but the other part was caught up in that thug life. But he always had something silly to say to keep everybody smiling.
I was out of state when I got the news that Daryl had gotten engaged and had started going back to church. I couldn’t believe it. A week before the wedding though, Daryl robbed a McDonalds. The police chased him into an alley, and fifteen bullets riddled his frail body. The last time we spoke was on the phone the day I left home a year before. He was all jokes. I couldn’t even fathom it being our last conversation; not after all those years. I never got to say ” I got love for ya, bruh.”
Each of us possesses a soul that will one day cross the threshold of eternity. Each second and each breath is but a grain in the hourglass of life. Each living moment is an opportunity. Embrace these moments as you face the ghosts in your life.