We are on the downhill slide for 2022. The year seems to have passed by rapidly. Years for me seem to pass by like the months used to. Soon months will fly by like days as I reach ever closer to the end of my life. I pray that when the end comes it is swift and painless, but as Joyce used to tell me, “Bill we don’t get to choose what happens to us.” She was correct. God was good to her, she had mere moments of pain and was unconscious for nearly 24 hours before passing. I remember kissing her ice cold forehead after she passed in the hospital. The nurses were kind enough to give me time to be with her and say so long, “because lovers never say goodbye.” It has been a year and nine days and as I write this my throat still tightens and my eyes moisten. She will always be with me. Every night before I drift off to sleep. I thank the Lord for another day and say goodnight to Joyce. I will never say goodbye to her; she lives on in my heart. Should it come to the point when my brain is scrambled, when I recognize no one or even know where I am, I hope I still have her in my mind. My daughter Annie, who seems to know things occult, has told me that it will not be Joyce that comes to get me on my transition to death, but rather my father. I do not doubt her. On my mother’s last day, she asked my sister Mar if my father and her father were still standing in the corner of her room waiting for her. Annie was not aware of that, yet she predicted it will be my father who comes to get me on my last day. Who am I to doubt her? I hope Joyce is with him, but again, I don’t get to choose.
Charles -
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