Late this afternoon I was thinking this: I should be standing in my (almost) 28 year old daughters home. Her husband would have become my son. I would have done whatever was necessary to make her mother in law my best friend. We would all be in her home; she could have cooked the turkey and we would all have brought the rest. Maybe she would, by now, have a child: a grand daughter, a grand son, perhaps quite young. And a beautiful tree covered with unique things Ive saved from age 20: no two were alike (they are now all in the dump buried under tons of garbage). We would be a loving, extended family, precious to one another, sharing three people: a son, a daughter, a grandchild. And yet, here I am. Here I am. My greatest wish has always been to fly with the migrating birds. Perhaps God will allow me this when my physical eyes close and I go into His presence, when He embraces me as my beloved Father Bill Woodruff embraced me this morning after Mass when he found me praying the Rosary. Oh, he held me so tight! He kissed me, on the cheek, on the forehead, and blessed me, and I knew he suffered with my suffering. But someday, I WILL FLY. Good night, my loved ones. youtube/watch?v=18-3jN1srS8&list=PLGEklJ_kAvBRJmAgXDt1Ui9KZhOkuGXyF
Posted on: Thu, 25 Dec 2014 23:19:30 +0000