They fade away quickly and become part of the landscape that once was; and when we try and grab a handful of sand and squeeze the collective grains within our closed fists, the finery of each pours from every crevice left open like the hourglass that counts the moments lost. Whether by the winds that shift the dunes afar or the lapping waves which erases the imprints once boldly made, the residue of our existence by natural necessity fades and ultimately disappears.
Mortality for most is a scary thought; immortality, a dream and fantasy desired; and within the spectrum of the two extremes is the daily imprint in the sand of human existence.
During that brief moment of appearance upon the sands of our lives, we all have to make decisions both of major consequential effect and minor residual impact, on a daily basis. Plans for the future; getting the day’s chores done; actions that may impact others; inaction that reverberates to others; and throughout each, the pause and hesitation that reflects indecision may be a further factor in the imprint upon the sand, whether of lasting impact or momentary indifference.
For Federal employees and U.S.Postal workers who suffer from a medical condition such that the medical condition prevents the Federal or Postal employee from performing one or more of the essential elements of one’s Federal or Postal job, the imprint in the sand that has to be considered is: Is continuation in this job and career possible? At what point should I file for Federal Disability Retirement? How will it impact my life, my finances, my ability to get a job in the future? And of imprints in the sand — will my decision have any consequences beyond the disappearance upon the dunes, any more than being separated from Federal Service or the Postal Service?
To understand the procedure, the impact and the residual consequences, consult with a Federal Disability Attorney who specializes in FERS Law, lest the imprints in the sand of one’s life becomes a permanent and irreversible mistake that cannot be reversed like the sands that slip within the hourglass of one’s life.
Robert R. McGill, Esquire