[cancer] The Fear leaves a calling card in the hallway of my heart
Yesterday I was running errands in the Genre car (yes, with the top down) and listening to Camper Van Beethoven's All Her Favorite Fruit, from Key Lime Pie. I started sobbing, and for a time, could not make myself stop.
I very nearly turned and headed for home. But I'm trying not to be a burden to Lisa Costello right now, as she is going through so much family stress. My arrival at Nuevo Rancho Lake shaking and crying would not improve her day in the slightest.
So I thought about how much she needs me to be strong and smart right now. How much I need that from myself. How impossible a goal that is, and how impossible it is for me not to make the attempt.
Eventually I fought myself down to a sniffle, and went on with my day.
The Fear is like that. I am a dead man walking. Sometimes my mind and heart and body remember that so much that I can do nothing else but be afraid. Not so much of death itself, as of loss, and of the pain and sorrow I will leave behind.
As for that song, it reminds me of my childhood. I have literally played croquet behind white washed walls within intervention's distance of the embassy. Just thinking about it as I write this is making my throat catch and my eyes sting.
We never know who we will become. My life makes me proud and happy. But I never planned to become a dead man.
Then again, who does?
I very nearly turned and headed for home. But I'm trying not to be a burden to Lisa Costello right now, as she is going through so much family stress. My arrival at Nuevo Rancho Lake shaking and crying would not improve her day in the slightest.
So I thought about how much she needs me to be strong and smart right now. How much I need that from myself. How impossible a goal that is, and how impossible it is for me not to make the attempt.
Eventually I fought myself down to a sniffle, and went on with my day.
The Fear is like that. I am a dead man walking. Sometimes my mind and heart and body remember that so much that I can do nothing else but be afraid. Not so much of death itself, as of loss, and of the pain and sorrow I will leave behind.
As for that song, it reminds me of my childhood. I have literally played croquet behind white washed walls within intervention's distance of the embassy. Just thinking about it as I write this is making my throat catch and my eyes sting.
We never know who we will become. My life makes me proud and happy. But I never planned to become a dead man.
Then again, who does?