Sitting by Annie's side there is little to say. Especially when we see each other a few times a day. It doesn't matter if we talk or not. Often we hold hands. Annie's is soft and warm. It feels like I am holding a beating heart.
Annie leans over to me, "You know I am ready to go."
I know what she means. She continues, "I am ready to go be with my family on the other side. I am waiting. I don't understand why God still has me here."
Annie doesn't expect me to reply.
While we sit there I recall my Father years ago in the hospital. He was suffering. His time was coming to an end, though it would be weeks before he left. One evening he asked me, "Corey, what did I do to deserve this suffering? It doesn't seem fair."
…
Lately, I have been in the deep waters of reflection. The real life questions that make everything look different and more sacred.
Answers do not come. Which isn't surprising. Who knows the answer to the great mystery that surrounds us?
One thing is certain: I am ready for this year to end. It has been heavy. Too eventful. Causing me to reflect far too long in the bathtub.
A friend recently commented, "I am not superstitious. But you know the "13" in 2013 just seems too symbolic doesn't it?"
I wish it were that simple. If only 13 was the problem. But then again… why not?
…
Annie leans back into her chair, closes her eyes briefly, opens them, looks at me, glances at her watch, "Is today Monday? You leave… Thursday?"
My eyes water, as I nod yes. I catch myself thinking, "Yeah this is why some people are afraid of loving. Damn." As I wipe my nose with the back of my hand, I give her a shy smile.
"I will long for you while you are gone." Annie doesn't say it to make me feel guilty, nor do I think she meant to say it outloud. Instead it is like a love note left later to be found.
…
Where is your heart today?
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