The road of Life is never long enough. Ask the senior how "old is old?" and he will gaily say "five years older than me". Surely this fellow has also endured some difficult times, he has more than likely experienced loss. I'm doubtful that every moment has been easy.
Perhaps a betraying spouse, a child in war or illness, or a lonely hospital bed has brought him to his darkest hours.
There is a grand gent who lives nearby. He's 92 and lives on his own. He walks everyday, some days more steadily than others. I can see him from my window jay-walking across a busy street, and I cringe at his faltering but steady pace. I do my best at this distance, to will the cars to slow down before they reach him.
But he still gets out for his stroll in the fair weather and under an umbrella. One day our paths crossed and he passed me a handful of cherries he said he'd pinched while he was out walking. There was some glee in his remark and I gladly got to share in his mischief!
I wonder if he knows how I think he is a hero. Someone to see and learn from, as he goes about just being himself.
He sits sometimes on his patio, and watches the new development as it encroaches on his quiet space. He had been promised a tranquil golf course, but he's seen time marching on all his life, so why should it be different now. He has outlived most of his friends, attended more funeral lunches, and been flirted to by many silver haired sweeties.
And he also knows that through the darkest times, you have to do on your own. Only the greatest lessons bring you to your knees, only the deepest wounds leave scars on your soul, and these you have to do alone.
No one, no matter how close, or how much they want to help heal you is You.
Your grief and your joy are only yours to hold. (Click to Tweet)
Perhaps a betraying spouse, a child in war or illness, or a lonely hospital bed has brought him to his darkest hours.
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| Being Alone, Not Being Lonely #Pixabay |
There is a grand gent who lives nearby. He's 92 and lives on his own. He walks everyday, some days more steadily than others. I can see him from my window jay-walking across a busy street, and I cringe at his faltering but steady pace. I do my best at this distance, to will the cars to slow down before they reach him.
But he still gets out for his stroll in the fair weather and under an umbrella. One day our paths crossed and he passed me a handful of cherries he said he'd pinched while he was out walking. There was some glee in his remark and I gladly got to share in his mischief!
I wonder if he knows how I think he is a hero. Someone to see and learn from, as he goes about just being himself.
He sits sometimes on his patio, and watches the new development as it encroaches on his quiet space. He had been promised a tranquil golf course, but he's seen time marching on all his life, so why should it be different now. He has outlived most of his friends, attended more funeral lunches, and been flirted to by many silver haired sweeties.
And he also knows that through the darkest times, you have to do on your own. Only the greatest lessons bring you to your knees, only the deepest wounds leave scars on your soul, and these you have to do alone.
No one, no matter how close, or how much they want to help heal you is You.
Your grief and your joy are only yours to hold. (Click to Tweet)
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