One of my favorite Beatles' songs has always been "Fixing A Hole" from Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, their seminal 1967 album released when I was 15 years old. My friends and I spent day after day listening to it, deciphering the lyrics, exploring the musical overlay of tracks and sound that made this album unique. I loved this song because I thought the tune was beautiful and the lyric poignant. Popular conjecture made it about shooting heroin, doing drugs, etc. But I took it to mean filling a void in one's life and making time for the little things.
"I'm taking the time for a number of things
That weren't important yesterday"
This song came to mind last night when I heard Walter Cronkite had died. I thought of my father in law and my son's close friend, dying the same week. Great gaping holes are left in our hearts and souls when someone close to us dies. Holes are left in our culture and world when an icon of import, particularly someone who made a lasting contribution, dies.
So what do we do? We go about filling the holes, trying to find a way to ease the pain and emptiness. We try to replace what has been lost. And maybe, we start taking the time for things that "weren't important yesterday."