Be soft. Do not let the world make you hard. Do not let the pain make you hate. Do not let the bitterness steal your sweetness.
Take pride that even though the rest of the world may disagree, you still believe it to be a beautiful place. Kurt Vonnegut
I frequently visit Bill in the nursing home. . We had eaten lunch together and had participated in the activities at the nursing home. We were sitting in Bill's room eating our winnings from Bingo and watching tv.
"How old am I?"
"I don't know, honey. How old are you?"
"Awesome, babe. That makes me 23."
He looks at me, surprised. "You're 23? I don't think so. Good try, honey." Bill bursts out in laughter, examining long-standing dyed hair and the wrinkles forming on my face. "What are we? 40's?" "Yep," I smiled. He seemed satisfied. Jack was born when Bill was forty. It was a time when we were elated with miracles. It was a time of happiness that outweighs even the purest of gold. Forty was the perfect age for Bill to be today.
It was during our forties that Jack came to be and became our world. It is a wonderful time to remember.
Love isn't perfect. Maybe that's one of the reasons it leaves us with a deep emptiness. The need to be loved is a primal need.
It is the purpose of existence.
When love has existed and it is taken away from us, we grieve. That dark, terrible emptiness is the hole that remains where love once existed.
We must fill that emptiness with something. We have to take the risk and love again. We fill that space with reaching out to others, to try to pick ourselves up and live again. I am glad I love. I thank God for healing and for allowing me to be strong enough to comfort Bill, to hold Jack up and help him to also remember our roots, our past, the things that make us who we are, to make us strong, and to be the best we can be.