Waiting For The Wake Up Call
Im tired of waiting. Im tired
of waiting for the light to turn green, for my hair to grow out, for the cows to come
home. Ive been waiting. How long does a red light last? Im late, and the
traffic light knows it. Im tired of waiting!
Its been a l-o-n-g journey. I
thought it would end someday.
I really didnt have any particular
day in mind or even a season or a year. I just thought it would end at some point in my
life. Ive learned the rules of the game. I know when silence is required and when it
is "safe" to allow my thoughts to be formed into spoken words. Ive learned
to dodge and dart, dancing as a boxer seeking to out-last his opponent.
I used to be filled with ice water or
lava. . . depending on the thoughts that raced across my heart. I alternated between being
frozen or being consumed by flames. Grief is a difficult journey.
Guilt became a constant companion, and I
could hardly wait until the day would come that I could cast that burden aside. I was
patient, however, allowing each "if only" and "I should have" to have
its moment in my soul.
Anger swept over me many times as I
stumbled along the rocks and stones. Frustration built up inside me as I raged against the
wind with flenched fist. "ITS NOT FAIR!!!" became my battle cry.
And the light stayed red.
No one needed me. No one needed me to fix
breakfast or to clean house or to earn money or even to come home. All the plants died
even the plastic ones didnt need me. The cat left home in search of a fuller
dish, and the cobwebs grew well into the corners. No one needed me.
I must have changed my phone number
because no one called, and the mail dwindled down to a few bills. The post office
didnt need me. I became invisible except for the throbbing hurt in my heart.
And so I waited. I waited for the cows to
come home, and they did. And it was a mess. I waited for the light to change, and it did.
And everyone went at once, and it was noisy. My ship came in, but it hit the dock and sank
at the end of the pier. I saw the light at the end of the tunnel. It was a train.
When there was nothing left, when I was
all alone, I was still breathing. I tried to hold my breath, but it didnt work. The
next breath always came, and then the memories came, too. I found I could still remember a
smile, a giggle, an US, and a ME. Even when everything else was gone, there was still
memory and was still ME.
As long as there is still ME, there will
always be YOU.
I finally figured out that I could make
the music come back. I could remember the joy; I could remember the tune. I dont
have to wait for someone else to bring me hope. Instead of looking for the light at the
end of the tunnel, I know I can find the light within. I can re-kindle the memories of
love given and received. I can choose how those memories affect me. I dont have to
drown or lose the light in the sadness of grief. The memories are mine, and they are my
Happiness is not the absence of pain, but
the possibility of joy returning . . . of memory becoming light. I will cry forever, but I
refuse to lose the joy we shared. I can laugh at the moment and remember the magic of US.
Make your own light. Dont wait for
the one at the end of the tunnel. Make your own hope. Remember the moments. Hold onto the
joy. The MAGIC, the MEMORIES, and the LIGHT are yours.