Life Partners



LIFE PARTNERS

       

 I'm sitting in a parking structure, waiting for my partner of twenty-six years to come back.  We

 are here so he can get some blood work done.  In two more days, we will be back here to get the

 results of these tests
.
          Bill is a cancer survivor.  He underwent surgery last year and has hsi prostate removed.  He was

 then subjected to six weeks of radiation treatments.  Those treatments seemed to be the "better

choice" ie, the lesser of the evils.

          Did we make the right choice?  He's been cancer free now for a year, so I guess the answer is

 yes.  Yet, I feel so apprehensive about the visit on Thursday.  If I feel this way, how must Bill feel?

  He's not a man of many words and has always had some difficulty expressing himself, so I haven't

 asked him.  I feel as if I myself might have some problem answering that particular question.

          We've been together for almost half of my lifetime.  We have shared much over these years,

laughter, sorrow, loss and gain.  All those events have cemented our feelings toward one another in

 ways one only dreams of as a starry eyed teenager.  We have both become better people, I believe, as

 we grow and contribute to one another's life

           I would wish any or all of the joy and yes, the pain also, on our youths starting out today.  I'd

 hope they will be as fortunate as we have been.

LIFE

Sixty-one.  Never thought I'd see the day, but it's come and gone, and I'm still here.  Well, technically, I

have two and a half more months-at that point in my life I will have outlived my mother.  It's an odd kind

of victory and maybe that's the wrong choice of words, but it's an event I never believed I would

experience.  I, sadly, surpassed  my son, he was twenty-eight when he stepped out.  My daughter is

 still here, what will the future bring for her?  Will she carry on the family name?  My mother wasn't

able to do that.  It occurs to me, more than ever, how young she was when she passed.  It's scary, it's

sad, it's definitely thought provoking and I'm not sure which emotion is mine this early morning.  It's

a kaleidoscope of thoughts and feelings playing across the screen of my minds' eye.  I miss her, that's

a given; but there were many times we didn't agree, but I always knew she loved me.

So now I have to wonder if my life would have been any different if she had lived longer.  It then

follows that I am at a point in my life to alter the usual course of mediocre days and nights. That if

I want something different in my life, I have to go out and strive to reach that goal; that if change is

to come and I want it on my terms, then I need to strive for that opportunity.  I would love to be

remembered as a writer, as someone that as you read my random kind of thinking, would you say to

yourself "Yes" because it rings true for you also.  That it made your day begin with the promise of

better thngs to come.

It's a heady kind of feeling, to finish a piece of readiing material and believe a little more in yourself

and your ability to achieve your dreams.  It's equally as exhilarating to have been the one that made

that possible for someone.  If my wanderings make a dream real for you, if they inspire, animate, or

stimulate a hunger that burns within, then my work is done.  I bow to you with a flourish that is filled

to capapcity with hope, hope for us all to achieve that which we aspire to.

So, here's to sixty-one, for some, the last days, for others, a new beginning, filled with promise

and yearning for desires sated.

IF I COULD LIVE ONE YEAR OF MY LIFE OVER...


If I could re-live one year of my life, it would be the year my mom was diagnosed with

cancer.  I would have made a point of spending more time with her and bringing my

 children along to share.  We had a good relationship, we didn't always agree, but she was

always there for us.  She raised my sister and I as a single parent and had much insight to

offer me. I, too, raised my son and daughter without their fathers' assistance.

She was a wonderful role model for me all my life and in her last year here with us,

I drew from her strength and courage many times.  Toward the end of her time, I pulled

from that bank of feelings to keep up the care she needed.  She'd always been very

independent and the roles we'd always played switched places, I became the caregiver.

I strove to live up to the level of care she'd always given us.  There were times I succeeded

and times I didn't, but I never stopped trying.  Even in death, as in life, I know I grew up to

be a better person because of that last year with her.  She never stopped teaching me about

love and life.  I still miss her sorely, 25 years later, but I treasure the memories of that last

year.

NEVER FORGET

‎Sunday, ‎May ‎08, ‎2011, ‏‎9:44:30 PM | Kim Kollert

Many lives came together in those days and weeks that followed, bonds
formed, promises made, friendships grown from the roots of
destruction; people refusing to give up, tired and dirty, yes, but
unceasing in the quest for survivors. We can close our eyes today
and those images play across our minds' eye, as clear as the first
time we watched them. So many emotions arise; sadness, disbelief,
shock, and anger. Through our tears we also perceive support,
compassion, love and a tenacious nature to survive, literally rising
from the ashes like the phoenix of legends.


As September approaches once again, we will be reminded more often of
what happened on that fateful day. We will again hear the survivors
relate their narratives of families torn apart in an instance of
madness. Don't turn away, don't just sigh and change the channel.
Hear them. Remember them. Honor them in whatever way is right for
you. They speak for the ones that no longer have a voice, they have
become the eyes, ears and caretakers of words for those we lost. We
must be vigilant, we must not forget. Don't allow their lives to
have been taken in vain, keep love in your heart, for it's hate that
drives the killing. Raise yourself up and say, “ NEVER AGAIN.”

Survival




The images roll past, screen after screen, as my brain tries to absorb

what I am seeing. I know the reality is so much worse, this only

barely skims the surface. Mother Nature speaks softly no more, she

has let loose the wrath, slamming the planet from every direction and
with such intensity.


Tornadoes, earthquakes, tsunamis and volcanoes; these are at the top of the list

of havoc wreaked. The destruction knows no boundaries, does not

discriminate by any of mankind’s petty standards. Devastation

knows no borders, color, race, beliefs or style of dress; those are

our iniquities, the building that falls cares not about price tags or

quality of furnishings. All is swept away that lies in the path of

demolition, sometimes miles wide, leaving little untouched as it
roars through.



The faces, so many emotions play across them, feelings most of us will

never know. Despair, loss, fear, all of those and more, and yet hope

is there too. Grateful to be alive, mournful for those who are not;

in awe of all that surrounds one. Thousands of pieces of strewn,

shreds of people's lives, items dear to someone's heart, mixed

together in the potpourri spread before the world in silent tribute

to survival. We will rebuild, I hear them say, and marvel at their

resilience. It makes me wonder if I would feel the same; if my tree

of life began there. If the branches and roots were well established

with generation after generation ensconced there.




The strength, determination and true grit of humankind stands before us,

amidst the wreckage with shoulders squared; facing that which was

thrown at their feet. I stand in spirit with you, my thoughts and

prayers blazing across the miles that separate us, my hands clasped
and head bowed in awe.