Headed for Home…

 

This is a difficult post to write.  Generally I’ll mull something over for a day or so, trying to organize my entry, center and exit.

But this has danced about my world for months now.  I’m trying to co-ordinate a game plan that cannot be instituted until the real journey begins.  The last chapter.  The letter of triumph.

Yes.  I have a roadmap.  This territory has been traversed before, but not this particular part of the forest.  I’m somewhere above the tree line this time.  Searching and seeking, setting up my co-ordinates.

It’s not that my time of searching is in vain, surely I’m lining up my defenses and corralling my allies.  But I’m walking aimlessly, all the while carrying a ticking time bomb in the pocket of my being.

Death paces back and forth outside this doorstep.  It’s anxieties and fatigue argue with its captor as we helplessly sit on the sideline.  No release, no refuge, only the banging of the seconds that ricochet across the room.  Sometimes we speak to it, but often we chaotically careen about its edges.

Aimlessly we circle.  Weary.  Downtrodden.  Fatigued beyond all bone weariness. And we are lost, knowing that nothing we say, nor do, can calm this awful ache of watching helplessly as death paces.  Endless is its trajectory, and yet, we hang a false veil of hope that this is only a night terror and one that will release us once we awake.

I will be overwhelmed upon its arrival.  Nothing can prepare my heart and soul for the loss of someone that means so much to me.  My faith is full, but in my human-ness, it is tested. Why?

You deserve to be free.  Thanks, Dad.  You have made me wealthy beyond measure, taught me things I had never realized I needed.  You sheltered me from the storm when needed, but left me to drift and bash about when it was necessary.  You taught me that silence was golden, but words used wisely could soar beyond the heavens, bringing  justice to the doorstep of where it so rightfully belonged.  The riches you bestowed upon me are my cartography.  I have been blessed by your gifts and will always remember their latitudes and longitudes.  He was your beacon, you are my light.

 

 

~ by coffeegrounded on August 1, 2015.