. . . And this day, too, shall pass
Like the fading blade of summer grass.
It will not again come this way.
It will create the dawning of another day.
Like the fading blade of summer grass.
It will not again come this way.
It will create the dawning of another day.
= H. Patrick
2=16=17
This past Sunday was a day of "pulling myself together" before I got too deep in my rabbit hole. I used various methods to get me through the day that day and they usually work, but when those methods were said and done, about two hours later, the rabbit hole re-appeared. My method for surviving in my own little world did not work.
You see, underneath, right beneath the surface of my controlled life, lies a layer of sadness, it's always been there, ready to pounce on me at any moment. Sunday was no exception.
Sweeps over me like a bitter wind and I looked around me to see if anything triggered it that I could put my finger on, but could not detect anything that was the culprit, that wind just continued to blow.
I talked to my cousin recently and said when I turned 70, I felt like a light switch had been turned on and made my life a surreal existence. I believe time passes by unnoticed, invisible to the naked eye and sneaks up on us through old age when we are not looking.
By researching a question my nephew asked me, I traced my family on Ancestry.Com and found out my Grandpa, on my mother's side, had been married to two different women at the same time. Having doubts about who my own father was, this was a shock to me, adding a layer to the lies and deceptions I have been subjected to all my life. That part of the deception and lies doesn't surprise me, but the other information does. No one ever talked about it, none of us ever knew. And I found out my mother had been married once upon a time, when she was in her early twenties and her husband had been killed in the war. Their daughter died a year later.
So, what is real?
Don't know, but in times like this, I question some serious beliefs, like = will I really get to see my babies again, will I really be able to hold them again, or was it the final goodbye I shared with them when they crossed The Rainbow Bridge?
Glad I am free, but living this long makes you aware of your own mortality and I'm not sure I'm ready to face the final curtain even though I have been saved and am sure I know where I am going, but, like I said, will I be able to see my babies again.
One day I will be gone and one day my babies will be gone, this trailer sitting by this narrow country road will be empty, full of memories of me and my babies and of many days when tears seemed to be my only release from the emotional pain I was in.
. . . and this day, too, shall pass . . .
. . . and one day I will be completely alone . . .
Maybe sitting on a bench overlooking the sunset and maybe it will be too much to handle, being completely alone, maybe it will be time for me to go, by my own way, in my own time, my way, when I pull the final curtain down on my life.
Sweeps over me like a bitter wind and I looked around me to see if anything triggered it that I could put my finger on, but could not detect anything that was the culprit, that wind just continued to blow.
I talked to my cousin recently and said when I turned 70, I felt like a light switch had been turned on and made my life a surreal existence. I believe time passes by unnoticed, invisible to the naked eye and sneaks up on us through old age when we are not looking.
By researching a question my nephew asked me, I traced my family on Ancestry.Com and found out my Grandpa, on my mother's side, had been married to two different women at the same time. Having doubts about who my own father was, this was a shock to me, adding a layer to the lies and deceptions I have been subjected to all my life. That part of the deception and lies doesn't surprise me, but the other information does. No one ever talked about it, none of us ever knew. And I found out my mother had been married once upon a time, when she was in her early twenties and her husband had been killed in the war. Their daughter died a year later.
So, what is real?
Don't know, but in times like this, I question some serious beliefs, like = will I really get to see my babies again, will I really be able to hold them again, or was it the final goodbye I shared with them when they crossed The Rainbow Bridge?
Glad I am free, but living this long makes you aware of your own mortality and I'm not sure I'm ready to face the final curtain even though I have been saved and am sure I know where I am going, but, like I said, will I be able to see my babies again.
One day I will be gone and one day my babies will be gone, this trailer sitting by this narrow country road will be empty, full of memories of me and my babies and of many days when tears seemed to be my only release from the emotional pain I was in.
. . . and this day, too, shall pass . . .
. . . and one day I will be completely alone . . .
Maybe sitting on a bench overlooking the sunset and maybe it will be too much to handle, being completely alone, maybe it will be time for me to go, by my own way, in my own time, my way, when I pull the final curtain down on my life.
Maybe thinking about that trailer sitting by that old country road where my babies and I used to live and where they used to play, but is silent now, like my life. Maybe that will be my time to say good-bye. Maybe God will forgive me and lead me Home anyway.
Maybe He will . . . maybe He will . . .
