Three years ago my parents moved into a retirement community in Lynchburg. They were gone four months later.
But today was the day, three years ago, and living in these times means you get images from the past plastered in front of you. Today's burst showed pictures of my dad, exhausted, finally in the place he had been wanting to be for years.
My mood plunged seeing this pictures. My dad's health deteriorated quickly since being taken away from where he spent half of his life. A good four decades.
I want things to have been different, but I was not in control. My own life has been affected with constant travel to where they live now. I welcome what the universe has brought me, but when I see snapshots like today knowing what happened next?
I travel back in time for a moment. Suddenly I remember all of the moments where I wanted to take an action but didn't. I went along with everything, pulled along by forces I didn't yet understand.
Do I now? A little better. But my life now is defined by my never-ending questioning of what my parents' lives have been and what that means for me.
I am turning inward like they turned inward about this time. I contend they suffered defeats and retreated into themselves. I feel I am doing the same thing and I want to resist this.
What's holding me back? Probably the work I do. It consumes me. Yet, I want to keep going and remain independent, so I better find a way.
(this was cross-posted from a personal journal on a day of clean-up)
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