THIS LIFE

When my wife was very ill, I created a playlist on Spotify. It’s called “Rob”. The purpose of it was to reflect my mood and attempt to foster some semblance of comfort – just enough to get me to and thru the next minute, hour, day, week, and month. Now, it’s a touch more than seven days short of one year since she escaped her suffering.

GOD bless her always.

Anyway, the playlist…was at one point 24 hours long, so I deleted the most depressive music and then removed half of what was left. I streamlined it, along with many other things in my life.

Unfortunately, I usually can’t get to sleep until 3AM or 4AM or 5… And often I will discover packages on my stoop, things I don’t remember ordering in the weest hours. The house is full of things I don’t need and one part of the kitchen is piled high with empty boxes.

Today, after giving the debris a baleful stare, I wondered what other regrettable things I might be doing at 4AM. That idle thought eventually led me to Spotify. Playlist called “Rob” is now 36 hours long. sigh.

This time, instead of deleting, I’ll leave it and hope for a long roadtrip in my future.

She stayed with me just long enough to rescue me
And she told me a story yesterday
About the sweet love between the moon and the deep blue sea

… And then she spread her wings, high over me
She said she is going to come back tomorrow

… And I said, “Fly on, my sweet angel
Fly on through the sky
Fly on, my sweet angel
Tomorrow I’m gonna be by your side”

… Sure enough, this morning came unto me
Silver wings silhouetted against the child’s sunrise
And my angel, she said unto me
“Today is the day for you to rise”

… Take my hand, you are gonna be my man
You are going to rise”
And then she took me high over yonder

… And I said, “Fly on, my sweet angel
Fly on through the sky
Fly on, my sweet angel
Forever I will be by your side”

– Jimi Hendrix

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Solemnly, mournfully,
Dealing its dole,
The Curfew Bell
Is beginning to toll.
Cover the embers,
And put out the light;
Toil comes with the morning,
And rest with the night.
Dark grow the windows,
And quenched is the fire;
Sound fades into silence,–
All footsteps retire.
No voice in the chambers,
No sound in the hall!
Sleep and oblivion
Reign over all!

II.
The book is completed,
And closed, like the day;
And the hand that has written it
Lays it away.
Dim grow its fancies;
Forgotten they lie;
Like coals in the ashes,
They darken and die.
Song sinks into silence,
The story is told,
The windows are darkened,
The hearth-stone is cold.
Darker and darker
The black shadows fall;
Sleep and oblivion
Reign over all.

190 days, since my beloved Elizabeth escaped her suffering and joined Jesus. How much longer must I endure without her?

Joy has been missing from my life for longer than I can remember, but today… Today these folks filled me with joy and provoked an out-loud laugh. Thank you, wonderful people.

Our Lord JESUS CHRIST said:

“Blessed are the poor in spirit,
For theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are those who mourn,
For they shall be comforted.
Blessed are the meek,
For they shall inherit the earth.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness,
For they shall be filled.
Blessed are the merciful,
For they shall obtain mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart,
For they shall see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers,
For they shall be called sons of God.
Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake,
For theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are you when they revile and persecute you, and say all kinds of evil against you falsely for My sake. Rejoice and be exceedingly glad, for great is your reward in heaven, for so they persecuted the prophets who were before you.”

I thought I could recover,

Subdue the grief and carry on,

But, now, I see.

Sorrow

And emptyness

Will share this life’s remainder

With me.

After so many lives,

Threaded by regret

And recovery,

How was I to know?

This anguish is unlike the thousand others.

I will live in sadness,

Until I escape the world,

Thank JESUS,

And find Her.

– r

Harvest Moon

written by Neil Young

Come a little bit closer
Hear what I have to say
Just like children sleepin’
We could dream this night away

But there’s a full moon risin’
Let’s go dancin’ in the light
We know where the music’s playin’
Let’s go out and feel the night

Because I’m still in love with you
I want to see you dance again
Because I’m still in love with you
On this harvest moon

When we were strangers
I watched you from afar
When we were lovers
I loved you with all my heart

But now it’s gettin’ late
And the moon is climbin’ high
I want to celebrate
See it shinin’ in your eye

Because I’m still in love with you
I want to see you dance again
Because I’m still in love with you
On this harvest moon

Because I’m still in love with you
I want to see you dance again
Because I’m still in love with you
On this harvest moon

Thirty years ago

I chucked everything

To be with Her.

Since that time

We lived for each other.

Helped each other.

Loved…

Each other.

All of my thought

All of my being

Was of Her

For Her.

Now

I am rudderless

Alone.

What am I now?

What will I be?

What will I do?

Well….

Something.

Today, I realized

I’m still focused on Her.

But She is in Heaven

Not here

In the world.

Purpose must be

Needs be

Redirected.

But to what?

And where?

One thing I know.

She no longer needs my help.

She’s with JESUS.

– r

Hiraeth is a Welsh word. Its meaning is somewhat incomprehensible to the non-Welsh, but it relates to longing and grief.

“Hiraeth (Welsh pronunciation: [hɪraɨ̯θ, hiːrai̯θ]) is a Welsh word that has no direct English translation. The University of Wales, Lampeter, likens it to a homesickness tinged with grief and sadness over the lost or departed, especially in the context of Wales and Welsh culture.” -wiki

“A blend of homesickness, nostalgia and longing, “hiraeth” is a pull on the heart that conveys a distinct feeling of missing something irretrievably lost.” – BBC

I am English, Scottish, Irish, Welsh, and Norse. The English is mostly from my real dad’s bloodline and I don’t seem to have any of the traits from his family – none of which have I met and most of whom don’t even believe I exist.

All of the traits of the rest reside in me. The Welsh hiraeth is presently foremost in my existence and I will wear it, like a cloak, until I escape the world for good and all.

Forget me not, Lord Jesus.

And protect Her from all evil.

– r