Can't Win Without a Fight

After July 7th (Sunday) 2013, Sundays have become nothing short of heavyweight prize fight, between the past and the decided underdog, the present. The future is counting upon the present to ultimately wear down the opponent, over many such bouts, to claim the hard fought prize of living, instead of a marginal, continued existence. Today, the past has the present on the ropes. A trip to clean her gravestone, and some simple Christmas wrap, were a very effective left-right combination. As I made the turn onto the cemetery road, the invisible wall of grief hit, without any conscious fuel from me. Before my arm had completed the turn, this invisible force that my vehicle could not keep from penetrating, entered my chest. It seemed to increase in intensity the closer Matt and I got to her resting place. I did what I came to do, told her how much we love her, prayed with Matt, and managed to hold it together, not to risk my son feeling insecure. Later that afternoon, as I worked out while Matt napped, my eyes fell upon our supply of Christmas wrap. I knew this was there in that spot for over 20 years, but today, the past decided it would be it's weapon of choice. I loved to shop with my wife, at Christmas time especially. We both were like kids, her with the presents and indoor decor, me with the Tim Allenish outdoor displays. She loved wrapping presents, and wrapping paper itself. When we would enter the aisle with the paper, she would say, " Oh, I really don't need anymore of that", and kind of look over at me. Every time she said this, I am happy to say, I would tell her that she should really look for some new patterns. We don't want to keep using the same rolls, what will people think? Now, we both knew we had so many unopened rolls downstairs, that they would have lasted us the rest of our lives. Wow, I actually just wrote that. Let's just say a long time instead. She would smile, and say , maybe just 1 or 2. I would then have the warmest feeling, watching her enjoy herself so, lost in the beauty of the many patterns she loved to see. At those moments, I knew there was no where else on the face of this Earth I would rather be then with her, seeing her smile and excitement with these little treasures.
Now, these are being used by the past as weaponry. I marveled at that thought. How can one of my most treasured memories, that should rightfully be a comfort, cause such pain? Perhaps in time, during some future bout, this and many other memories turned weaponry, will gradually become tools of the present, used to comfort and strengthen in this fight of all fights. 
"You can fight, fight without ever winning
But never, ever win
Win without a fight"
from "Resist" by Rush