With each day and night that passes, there is one less in which we have to heal. In this desire(to heal), I stand alone. My mother, aunts, and uncles are at the age where mortality is difficult to deny. I am deeply pained by the reality that funerals seem the only sane reason to join in a gathering of those who otherwise have expressed actively and passively; a demand need for me, only to pretend and to be less sensitive and less hurt. Oh…ok. The occasions will be awkward and I will need to call deeply on my courage, but I will show up and pay respects. Apparently my limits for unkindness are unwelcome. So, until then, I will stay away. For now, this is how I respect their wishes and myself. Interesting to note that because I find it unbearable to think that my time with my sons is limited to this time on earth, I must believe in heaven. Yet, as it relates to my family of origin, I must believe that our time IS limited to time on earth. Sad but true.
When my sons were 4 and 5 years old and they asked about heaven; if I would die before them and how they would find me “up there”. Like magic I I knew to tell them “It will be like when I pick you up from school; the bell rings and I am waiting, you will look and you will find me, waiting, like I always am.”♥
