I am an old man now. Not in my mind, of
course. But all the same, for eighteen years I have been fighting one
crisis after another, each day. One more time to prove that life is
here to stay for as long as the moment will carry. I breathe and so
must he. There is no quitting, until the end overtakes us. And all
that is, has been just and each moment has been weighed and those
things, those moments, those accomplishments will never succumb to
what is less. The endless nights of dawn, the turmoil, the anger and
the lack of respite. If he can do, so can I. Perhaps less, certainly
much less than once, humbled to know that less is forgetful and
looking for pleasantries, groaning and no longer jumping from bed to
treat, placate or save but to drag aching bones and confusion to the
fray; but with a breath and a prayer, always, always into the fray.
Beautiful. Thank you for sharing these reflections.
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