On Time, Money , and Age

 

 

When I was a kid, I had all the time in the world  to do all of the stuff I wasn't old enough to do yet.

Then I grew up and got a job so I could afford to do all of the stuff I no longer had the time to do.

Now I am retired. I've got all the time in the world to do all of the stuff I can't do anymore even if I had the money. Plus, I am old enough to know better. 

 

 

 

 

My Life as a Widow with Parkinson's

   

My Life as a Widow with Parkinsons

This is a blog entry that I've been trying to write for more than a year now. I usually get about this far, and then I run out of Kleenex. But I think I need to finish it and get it posted.

Friends keep asking how I am doing, selling my house, downsizing to fit into a bachelor suite, and living on my own - I have to tell you - I am not coping well. I am having little pity parties for myself, and creating biohazard waste zones with my soggy Kleenexes.

For 30 years, Derek was literally my guide, because I am geographically challenged, and no matter how many times I have been somewhere, I can't give directions or get there by myself. There are no maps in my head. Derek had maps in his brain. Lots. He never got lost.

(Originally written in October of 2018, with frequent attempt to polish and post, finally posting raw and unedited only two and a half years later. Hey, maybe I will actually finish editing and publish that autobiography I started writing around 2002 or 2003. It could happen.)

Take My Life, Please

 

 My brain hurts. I am looking around at the mess I have created, all the unfinished projects cluttered around me, the necessary never-ending paperwork of life, and all of the resources I have wasted by trying to hook onto every beckoning panacea with an open hand for my wallet.

It is all so meaningless, and yet I feel a desperation to finish all of it. I feel so alone in my life. I have been left unsupervised for way too long, and the freedom is closing in on me.

"Take my life, please!" I found myself silently screaming again just now. 

In anguished humility I recognized my plea as a prayer that has been asked and answered a long time ago. My exhausted superannuated brain chugs and churns to do the math. Forty some years ago, this same brain, awash with teen angst and hormones, first cried out to God and was inexplicably drenched with peace that defied comprehension.

The title of this post slipped into my brain as a prayer of desperation cleverly disguised as a rant against the unfairness of it all, the eyes of my brain have once again been lifted from the inward self centered navel gazing up to the One who has received and answered that prayer with that same simple overwhelming peace.

This has been a true and real time reality blog with no script, no re-enactments or post blog revision. I fought back the compulsion to go back and edit.