I don’t hear you anymore. Your persistent taunting appears to have been silenced. You didn’t win, you didn’t lose – you simply quieted down when your presence was no longer a threat.
It does not pay to get close to those you afflict, because ultimately they lose their fear of you and embrace the sad reality you initially provide.
From the initial shock of your perpetual visit, Faith, Courage and Strength move in (gradually) to disarm your harmful intent. You lose power quicker than you thought you gained it. In your wake, you leave a tired, diseased body that finds little value for the riches of this world; inadvertently, you prepare a soul to enter creation of the ultimate kind.
But yours is also a game of wait, so patiently we stand on the precipice of worry, not because we are afraid of what comes next – but rather because we don’t know when the next will show itself.
I don’t know if Death has ever gone by the name of Next, but he certainly is scheduled to make a visit our way soon and fortunately he is not a lengthy visitor.
He enters, does his bidding and exits. I like it when a visitor knows not to over stay his welcome and death, well, he knows his limitations. He is simply there to complete the deed and leaves sadness after he has departed the building.
Sadness eventually rises from its own ashes and manifests itself in a nostalgic acceptance, a hybrid feeling of sorts that we humans are so capable of experiencing. It is funny how our memories can eventually replace the physical presence of a being, our dreams can be the conduits to clandestine meetings known only to us and our faith acts as a bridge to all of these new mechanisms for keeping in touch with our departed.
But today we are still not there. We are still waiting. We are still watching, keeping guard and holding a vigil for the unknown. Each breath that comes from our body stops for a brief second to see if the next is near. We become ushers for the terminally ill to sit in the seats reserved for the perpetually healed, a VIP lounge of sorts that we can’t see behind the curtain – but our faith tells us it is there. So we pass the baton and know that a Being much more worthy than our humble human form will honor the reservation and give our loved one their merited place.
So we find comfort through our sadness as we wait.
We wait for what eventually will come next .