In one of those moments in time, I found myself sitting in the waiting area in a hospital emergency room. The specifics are unimportant.
While I sat there, watching the slowly moving second hand struggle to make one revolution, I realized the absurd amount of time we waste on trivialities.
Sitting there for those passing hours, I engaged in the mindlessness of Facebook and email. Alternating between a debate over Trump vs. Obama and sorting through nonsense mail.
A family arrived ahead of a rescue bringing a loved one. The hospital paging system bellowed “CPR team to the CPR room” drowning out the sobs, uncertainty, and fading hope.
I tried not to intrude, but in such a small environment, with all the growing evidence of an unhappy end to the rescue run, I couldn’t help but notice the tears, the hugs, the hopeful looks, and the ones who understood the reality.
What drove this home was a moment after the family had all gathered, accepted the news, and started discussing the next steps.
Two young brothers came in, running to their grandfather as he fought back the tears. He tried to soothe their baptism into the reality of death by saying she was in a better place.
I don’t know if this was sudden or expected. A drawn-out struggle to the end or a quick exit. What I know is it made all the nonsense we waste time on not just silly, but obscene.
It won’t matter what President turns out great. It won’t matter what political philosophy proves most useful. It won’t matter if whatever party occupies the White House is the cause of the end. What will be, will be. Not one word in cyberspace will make any difference at the moment of one’s death.
What will matter, is the time we lost worrying about the trivial when the things that matter were right in front of us and we missed it.
All those moments lost to the dust of life can never be regained.
In the last moments before they left the hospital. One young boy sat next to his grandfather, holding his hand.
One young man learning to face the realities of life and death and one husband facing the specter of regret for lost time.
Think about it while the time is yours to spend.