...at not only the past year, but down through the decades, continuing to wonder why I'm here, is there still a mission or purpose I've yet to discover, or is it all just one cosmic and stupendous accident? When all is said and done, has my presence here made one whit of difference, or will I just disappear, return to dust, only to be forgotten?
I always loved to visit cemeteries, imagining the lives behind the names, their struggles, their fleeting moments of sunshine, how important everything must have seemed during their time here ~ and how impossible it is for anyone in the present reading their names to know all the hills and valleys of their lives.
"And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make..." (Lennon/McCartney)
Also in the end, we are all reduced to ashes or holes in the ground, with or without love. Does anybody care? No. You're dead. Not to be morbid, but really, how much of any of this thing called "life" really matters?
I (reluctantly) arrived on this planet in the year 1946, and can only remember searching-searching-searching for answers at every turn of my life. Some questions have been answered, too many remain as they were. Always and forever wondering...did I make the right decisions, should I have married so-and-so and had children or stay single (as I did,) am I 'happy' now...? Well, the answer to that last question is an unequivocal yes. So I guess those haphazard decisions made along the way have contributed to this current state.
2013 was the most restless year of my life. I could no longer tolerate the insanity and hectic pace of New York City and made what most people considered a "reckless" decision to just finally get the hell out and live closer to nature and real people. Granted, it hasn't been easy. This late in life, change is difficult, but also exhilarating. Getting to know new people, acclimating oneself to a totally new environment, finding the rhythm of a new existence, hoping people will accept you, warts and all, is no easy task.
But leaving one's entire 'family' behind doesn't even enter the picture; I did that long before I left...or maybe they left me behind when I was still among them as they continued to play make-believe-family when and if I ever contacted them. No big deal either way.
So here I am, on the cusp of what sounds like a year straight out of science fiction, 2014. It's a long stretch from 1946 any way you look at it, and I must say I preferred beginning the years with 19 but there ain't a whole lot we can do about that.
"So here's to life, here's to love, here's to you....."
(Songwriters: Phyllis Molinary/Artie Butler)
