Don't Miss Out

    Today is November 10, 2015. It's been nearly a year since my last posting. For all intents and purposes, i've lost the spark, or desire, or quite possibly my muse did a no call/ no show at some time previous. I have no idea which is the relevant answer. What I do know is I've stopped writing. Writing has always been a compulsion. More to the point an obsession. Tiny scribblings of pieces and parts strewn about like prayers upon the wind. Alas: no litter, prayers, or wind. I'm left with the smoldering embers of a fire whose smoke rises in small wisps staining the walls and choking the apparatus. I owe myself so much more. I owe my children more. I owe my reluctant audience more.
     I turned Fifty this year. The day came and went without incident. Any attempt from me to illustrate my relief at waking the next day would be feeble at best...Perhaps, I digress.
     When I was approaching my Thirtieth Birthday an acquaintance of mine offered the following, "Nothing is ever the same after you turn Thirty." It was within a few weeks following my Thirtieth when I had my collapse. Was this the product of self fulfilling thought or had I been running on the fringe of human endurance for so long I just gave out? I don't know and it will remain unanswered. That same day this acquaintance went on to state, "...and if you think Thirty is rough, just wait till you hit Fifty. Oh Man!!!"
     Thirty was a turning point for me. No more caffeine or stimulants of any kind and the beginning of a stunning inventory of medications which has taken the better part of Twenty years to hammer out and pare down to a handful which will accompany me the entirety of my days. So, with her words about Fifty echoing through my skull, I spent the better part of a year vacillating between: fear, anxiety, and reconciliation.
     In the weeks leading up to my birthday, I could feel myself becoming more and more out of control. I'm not talking about the sort of control we would like to believe we hold over our lives, but the control over the thoughts betraying me at every turn. My attendance at work suffered, my home life suffered, and those closest to me suffered in there was absolutely nothing they could do for me. Then the night before my birthday, just before I went to bed, I said my Rosary for what I believed to be the last time. I patted my sleeping partner on the forehead and stroked her face. Just before laying my head down, i placed a note to my best friend with everything he'd need to know under my phone. In that moment, my life was complete. Perhaps not complete, but settled to a reasonable degree.
     On April 20th, I woke. My life continued. I looked up and said, "Thank You." It seemed like the reasonable thing to do.
     Since that morning, I've been working at being alive. I've seen a Cardiologist, all clear there. My Widower Son-in Law has become engaged to a great woman. She is not a replacement for my Daughter, rather she is the next incarnation of his life. I wish them all the best and more. Over the fourth of July, I was reacquainted with my oldest son. I met his wife and their two children. They are a fine young family. They are conscientious parents and my Grandchildren are no less than what i'd expect them to be, and beautiful too. My boys whom are half out of the nest are turning into fine men. All I expect of my children is to obey the law and do something with their lives and they are actively working it. My job is very trying at times, but as I consider these folks an extension of my own family, I do my best to provide them with the best I have.
     Looking back to my birthday this year, had I stayed sleeping en perpetuity, I would have missed out on a great many things. Then again, those people in my life, most certainly, would have missed out as well. If I am to retrieve a single pearl from this it has to be nothing short of it isn't over until it is over. Try not to sweat the silliness around you and as Matthew McConaughey says, "Just Keep Livin!"

Until I write you again, Peace be with you,
 Dave