Are you: Dead or Alive? (For Old Folks)) Commentary))
Are you: Dead or Alive? (For Old Folks)) Commentary))
You give up being afraid because you want to live, otherwise you are alive without knowing you are, and simply remain afraid—but to live and be alive, and know so, is to be afraid and to allow it, it tells you something—, it tells you it is better than being dead. My uncle lived with heart problems, like so many, died at 61-years old, and was afraid to live, thus, he lived like he was dead already, like he had a pocket full of dynamite ready to explode at any minute, had it in his hip pocket I think, that is worse than being dead.
On the other hand, my mother died at 83-years old, lived like life was her gift, and the moment she was in, it was to be lived, lived, in the moment. They were going to put her in an old folks home, complications the last thirty days of her life, and she said, “Who wants to live like this, would you?” And of course I nodded my head no, and she died before they could bring her to such a place, to pace the floor, and be turned over by orderlies, every hour, and spoon feed. That’s how it was, and that is how it would have been, had I allowed them to take her, and she didn’t want to be taken. They asked me, “What do you want to do?” I said, “I’m not dying, she is, it is what she wants to do, not me…” (end of conversation).
My Grandpa died in his home at 83-years old, died of a stroke they say, he lived in the moment. My great grandfather fell off a roof and died, at a younger age, perhaps never knew what happened until he woke up and found out he was dead. And my aunt, she died at 78-years old, recently, I think to an allergic reaction, she was living with her granddaughter.
My father in law, went on a long trip for three months, he is going on 86-years old in a few months. He told me, “Maybe I’ll see you again (soon).” My wife didn’t catch that response, but I did. Meaning, I may or may not come back, because everyday counts now.
Old folks are aware time is short, and young folks think they got lots of time to spare, usually that is the way it is, except for wartime of course. It is how it is suppose to be. Before this year is up, somebody I know will die, perhaps me, but I refuse to quietly go out, why? Because what else do we have but life. I am no longer looking for reasons or answers to life’s mysteries, leave that for psychology, I want to continue racing down the path of life, this is my time, my hour, in which will be over quickly enough anyhow. Thus flee while you can life is but a few evenings later…then it is morning, a new haven will be at hand. And whatever you got in the piggy bank, will not be there waiting for you at the new haven resort, or perhaps the abyss, depending on which way the wind shifts you.
You give up being afraid because you want to live, otherwise you are alive without knowing you are, and simply remain afraid—but to live and be alive, and know so, is to be afraid and to allow it, it tells you something—, it tells you it is better than being dead. My uncle lived with heart problems, like so many, died at 61-years old, and was afraid to live, thus, he lived like he was dead already, like he had a pocket full of dynamite ready to explode at any minute, had it in his hip pocket I think, that is worse than being dead.
On the other hand, my mother died at 83-years old, lived like life was her gift, and the moment she was in, it was to be lived, lived, in the moment. They were going to put her in an old folks home, complications the last thirty days of her life, and she said, “Who wants to live like this, would you?” And of course I nodded my head no, and she died before they could bring her to such a place, to pace the floor, and be turned over by orderlies, every hour, and spoon feed. That’s how it was, and that is how it would have been, had I allowed them to take her, and she didn’t want to be taken. They asked me, “What do you want to do?” I said, “I’m not dying, she is, it is what she wants to do, not me…” (end of conversation).
My Grandpa died in his home at 83-years old, died of a stroke they say, he lived in the moment. My great grandfather fell off a roof and died, at a younger age, perhaps never knew what happened until he woke up and found out he was dead. And my aunt, she died at 78-years old, recently, I think to an allergic reaction, she was living with her granddaughter.
My father in law, went on a long trip for three months, he is going on 86-years old in a few months. He told me, “Maybe I’ll see you again (soon).” My wife didn’t catch that response, but I did. Meaning, I may or may not come back, because everyday counts now.
Old folks are aware time is short, and young folks think they got lots of time to spare, usually that is the way it is, except for wartime of course. It is how it is suppose to be. Before this year is up, somebody I know will die, perhaps me, but I refuse to quietly go out, why? Because what else do we have but life. I am no longer looking for reasons or answers to life’s mysteries, leave that for psychology, I want to continue racing down the path of life, this is my time, my hour, in which will be over quickly enough anyhow. Thus flee while you can life is but a few evenings later…then it is morning, a new haven will be at hand. And whatever you got in the piggy bank, will not be there waiting for you at the new haven resort, or perhaps the abyss, depending on which way the wind shifts you.
posted by Dennis and Rosa Siluk at 3:07 PM
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