I have been in Southern California about 6 weeks now. It seems like a lifetime. I took a walk on the beach today and collected shells for a project I am going to work on.
Picking up those shells scattered along the sand reminded me of my life. It was low tide but high tide was making its way in.
Every shell along the way reminded me of fragments of my life. Some were broken, some were whole. All of them, ranging from white to red and black in color. All were flawed in one way or another. The tide was rolling in drowning every shell in its way.
There is a whole plethora of words to describe the day. Broken, drowning, sad, defeated, angry, weak, unloved, lost and alone. The good thing about this day were the other words in my head dying to come out. Hopeful, grateful, present, strong, loved, supported by my best friend on the planet.
I am uncomfortable in my own skin. I am definitely feeling sorry for myself.
I have said before I haven’t felt angry about Mali dying the way she did. I should be but, I don’t have any anger with that beautiful girl. What a grand mess she made with her departure. Or did she? Maybe that mess was always there? Honestly, I believe it was.
I have paid an extremely high price, in retrospect, for a life that I constantly bricked and mortared just to keep together. All the brick and mortar on the planet cannot keep back a tide that eventually washes everything away. I thought the meaning of unconditional love was taking the hard road. Trying to do the right thing. Always being available to my family. I was wrong. After everything was said and done the brick and mortar broke. Maybe I am wrong…. Does it really matter anymore anyway?
Remembering Mali 