Who says I'm too old to write? Probably the same folks who say you can't teach an old dog new tricks. Or the ones who say you can't find love after 40. To this, I say, I am reinventing myself at 50. I have found love at 50. And, I am 50 times a writer! My mission is to write, out of my Being, words that illuminate and evoke honesty, liberty and connection.



Wednesday, January 11, 2012


Except for the purr of my furnace off and on, silence. Every now and then, I hear the rumbling of a car passing or is it a bus? School children waiting on the corner. Wonder if you are waiting on the corner? It’s times like this that you ask yourself if heaven is real. I know I’ve been taught about heaven—pearly gates, streets paved with gold—but is that really what it’s like to die? Or are the pearly gates a metaphor.


What was it like for you? What was it like to be sitting and laughing then to walk into the kitchen to simply get a glass of water? Was there a stabbing in your chest or did it happen so fast that you exited your body before you knew it? Did you gasp for breath with eyes bulging in horror and try to crawl or did you see your mother or your father beckoning for you to join them? How did you exit this life, this world, this earthly realm?

Did you feel alone? Oh, I so hope you didn’t feel alone. I know people say you face death alone but it’s different when there’s no one seeing you to the door, I think. There’s a difference in starring into loving faces or feeling a warm hand. Some peoples’ accounts of near-death experiences is that everything turned dark. Others say they saw a bright light. One preacher lady said her spirit hovered in anticipation as she watched doctors try to bring her back. She said she didn’t want to come back into a pain-filled body, but God told her it wasn’t her time.

Did you want to leave, Lawrence? I know that congestive heart failure leaves you with a lot of problems; but did you want to leave? Were you tired of fighting? I know you’d been sick and was having multiple issues with your body; but Oveda said you were looking forward to going to Hawaii in March. Doesn’t sound like you wanted to die to me.

All I know is that I feel lonely without you. We didn’t talk everyday, I know that. But I knew you were there. There was a security in knowing you were on this planet. You were the closest thing to having a brother that I had ever had. When we were little we use to practice kissing. Remember? Too funny. Oftentimes, our mom’s would put us in front of the black and white TV and we’d watch people kiss. You were so willing to participate….lol. Remember that time I took out my Christmas leftovers and made a meal. We had so much fun eating, talking and laughing. Or the time we went to Copelands and sat at the bar. I think that girl liked you. And you kept ordering different wines—determined to find one that I’d like. You knew how to celebrate. You didn’t even seem bothered when we couldn’t find one. I didn’t like ‘em and you drank ‘em…lol. I think you planned it that way.

We were twin souls, Lawrence. We were adventurous and made each other laugh til our sides hurt. We talked about stuff that meant a lot to us. Sometimes it’d be hours! I didn’t get a chance to tell you that your advice paid off. I met a wonderful man and I soooo wanted you to meet him. Oveda said you were so proud of me and Derrien. She said you’d talk about us all the time. I’m glad. I loved you so much and I wanted you to feel it. She said you did.

Well, let me get up. I feel so heavy, Lawrence. I feel like a weight is on my heart. One minute I think of you and laugh; then turn around and think of you and cry. I know that you felt misunderstood sometimes. I understood you. I knew your heart. Here’s to another day of functioning…just functioning.

Enhanced by Zemanta