a. Mathematics A set of elements or points satisfying specified geometric postulates: non-Euclidean space.
b. The infinite extension of the three-dimensional region in which all matter exists.
a. The expanse in which the solar system, stars, and galaxies exist; the universe.
b. The region of this expanse beyond Earth's atmosphere.
a. An extent or expanse of a surface or three-dimensional area: Water covered a large space at the end of the valley.
b. A blank or empty area: the spaces between words.
c. An area provided for a particular purpose: a parking space.
4. Reserved or available accommodation on a public transportation vehicle.
a. A period or interval of time.
b. A little while: Let's rest for a space.
6. Sufficient freedom from external pressure to develop or explore one's needs, interests, and individuality: "The need for personal space inevitably asserts itself" (Maggie Scarf).
7. Music One of the intervals between the lines of a staff.
8. Printing One of the blank pieces of type or other means used for separating words or characters.
9. One of the intervals during the telegraphic transmission of a message when the key is open or not in contact.
10. Blank sections in printed material or broadcast time available for use by advertisers.
v. spaced, spac·ing, spac·es
1. To organize or arrange with spaces between.
2. To separate or keep apart.
3. Slang To stupefy or disorient from or as if from a drug. Often used with out: The antihistamine spaces me out so I can't think clearly.
To be or become stupefied or disoriented. Often used with out: I was supposed to meet her, but I spaced out and forgot.
Spaces Where You Used to Be
The world consists of millions of spaces. Some of them are filled with things, but they are still spaces. A tent occupies a space and there is space inside of it. It is like a picture inside a picture inside a picture…. Never ending. Vast. Undefinable.
There was a space on Christmas Day. One where you used to be. Watching a movie way too loud, in a minimised window. Playing Canasta. Grumbling about how you don’t want this or that. One where I would wish you Merry Christmas and kiss your stubble cheek. One where you would mumble “Merry Christmas, my doggie”.
There will be a space on Friday. A space that used to be filled with me phoning you to wish you a ‘happy birthday and hope you have an awesome day’. A space where you would have gotten some desert brightly coloured and decorated in a celebratory fashion. A space where your day would have been concluded with a whisky, and gathering around a fire with a best friend. That space is empty.
There is a space in a couple of days’ time. Where I would have bought you some cigars/socks/whisky – wrapped it specially and presented it to you, along with a clichéd message about how great you are at your role as the position you use to fill. That space is vacant. How I wish in the past that I had used more than clichés to tell you how much you mean. How the space that you fill is an immense one, in my heart. I am trying to recall whether the words on the page were actually matched by feelings in my heart – I can’t really remember. I can’t really say whether I took the space you filled for granted. I do know that had I been given half the chance I would have savoured the moment, expressed the gratitude and magnitude of the space you filled with more sincerity, more attention to be sure I remembered every moment of it.
All these little spaces you used to fill are now empty. I am sure as time goes by more of them will be discovered. It only dawned on me now that this week there will be two of them. Some of them yet to be discovered. Some of them glare at me – my wedding day – the space you would have filled giving me away to the man who has my heart and the birth of your grandchildren I still have to find someone to create them with.
All of these spaces, where you used to be in my day. All of these spaces you had ownership of, all leave this space you filled in my heart a little hollow…