Is There a Point?

Okay, so let me get this straight. There is another virus that has suddenly appeared that is a threat to humankind. We are supposed to cower in the corner with, perhaps 4 or 5 face coverings in 2022, I suppose. Perhaps, we should just lock ourselves in our houses and order our food online. Perhaps, we should disconnect our phones and our internet and isolate so as not to spread our germs to our loved ones. Perhaps, we should quit our jobs.

I am just so disgusted with the fearmongering, the constant, incessant grind of hearing about some freaking virus that is going to wipe us all out. The media and the governments of the world are taking a vile, evil, demonic joy in making us afraid to associate with our loved ones and of going about our daily lives with confidence and God-given joy.

I hate to be the bearer of the cold, ruthless truth, but death is inevitable. If you live long enough you are going to die of something. Cancer is a big nasty bastard that killed my mother, my sister, and probably is going to kill my brother in a few months. Heart disease killed my beloved cousin Billy at age 32, my father and my aunt Sally. Oh, wait, cancer killed my cousin Doreen, as well. My other sister is now suffering from a genetic disorder that is so brutally horrific in its devastation of this beautiful, kind and intelligent woman that she can barely walk across the floor without wincing in pain. She is only 61 years old. It’s probably doubtful she will reach 70.

My first mother-in-law whom I will honestly say was not my favorite person died a few years ago of heart disease and Peripheral Artery Disease. She was 84. My second-mother-in law, whom I loved as if she were my own mother, died of cancer at 62 years old.

My nephew died young of a heart attack.

My mother’s nephew died of a self-inflicted gunshot wound at a young age because this life just became too painful for him after his wife left him.

Death! Death is everywhere. It isn’t a matter of if; it is a matter of when.

No vaccine, no booster shots, no vegetables and fruit diet, no exercise plan can stop our inevitable march into that dark night.

It comes for us all.

I have lost almost everyone I have ever loved to those unrepentant bastards: cancer, heart disease, and suicide.

My heart grieves for anyone who has lost a loved one to death for whatever reason.

I am marching closer to that dark night; I am 60 years old.

And, I am sick of this constant grinding drone of the news media and so-called expert babbling on with a satanic gleam in their eyes spewing out their vile rhetoric designed to scare us into submission.

But, what’s the point? What is the endgame here?

Oh, I tried to forget, but the memory just stabbed me. This is the birthday of my brother George. He died at 16 years old while swimming with friends the day after he finished 11th grade. He and a group of guys headed to the lake. Damned death snatch him from me, and I wasn’t even born yet.

What is my point?

LIVE. LOVE. LIVE. LOVE. AND DO IT WITH WILD ABANDON. TIME IS SHORT; YOU CAN NEVER GET ONE IOTA OF A SECOND BACK.

Oh, what I would give for just one second to sit with my uncle Carlton. He died of a heart attack at 42 years old when I was 9 years old. I remember crying at his funeral. I remember my daddy having to be carried from the church because his grief at the loss of his brother was so strong that he collapsed. I had never seen my daddy cry or appear weak. That day is forever emblazoned on my soul. My daddy cried and I never forgot it.

Grief. Trust me, I understand it. I understand fear; I understand all too well how fear can immobilize you and warp your reason, logic, and judgement.

This post is not about vaccinations; so, don’t get this post twisted.

This post is about realizing that life is too short to cower in the corner and be immobilized by the inevitability of death. It comes to us all sooner or later.

REACH OUT TO THOSE WHOM YOU LOVE; TELL THEM EVERY SINGLE DAY THAT YOU LOVE THEM. GO EAT CHRISTMAS DINNER WITH THEM. LOVE THEM AND CHERISH THEM. DON’T LET SOME FEAR-MONGERING FOOL WITH A HIDDEN AGENDA STOP YOU.

Life is excruciatingly short. One day, someone you love will not be with you.

My mama Gracie Lee, my daddy Oscar, my uncles Carlton and Bo, my aunts Eltrum, Sally, Myrtle, Gladys, and Mary, my sisters Selma and Sara Jo, my brother George, my cousins Billy and Doreen, my nephews Dennis and Randy, my mother-in-laws Patricia and Shirley, my father-in-law Charles, are all gone. Gone. Dead. If there were words I had wanted to speak to them, I do not have an opportunity to. They are all gone from this life. I can only pray that God in His infinite wisdom will one day reunite me with my loved ones.

This life is painful enough without constantly being reminded about the specter of death every time we turn on the internet or television.

We know it; they know it, and they are evil in their capitalizing on our fears.

My prayer for 2022 is that we all disconnect from the media and spend less time on social media and more time sitting at the kitchen table with our loved ones simply talking, laughing and relishing the preciousness and sacredness of this fragile, time-limited life.

So, there is a point.

The point is life is short so love with abandon.

Love, after all, is greater than fear.

Love is eternal.

God is love.

Blessings to all.

This is my last post for 2021.

Pray for me; I pray for you.

Jenny W. Andrews Copyright 2021

NOTE: The holiday season is very difficult for some people. Reach out to someone if you are depressed and need help. Tomorrow is another day. Trust God’s love and his comfort. You are not alone on this lonely planet.

Goodnight, Betty

 

clouds during golden hour
Photo by Sindre Strøm on Pexels.com

On January 21st, my cousin Betty died of cancer. Her last days were spent with family. Hospice provided the necessary in-home care with a morphine drip. Cancer is excruciatingly painful and nasty. She was down to only fifty-nine pounds when she died.

On my cousin Libby’s last visit with Betty, she told Betty that she loved her so much; Betty, although weakened, sat up and said “I love you more” with emphasis on the word “more.”

On this cold, rainy, and dreary Saturday night in the midst of winter and sorrow I ponder the meaning of this life, of the space of years that Betty lived, that I have lived, that we all have lived. What is the sum total of our days from the hour of a birth until our final breath? What have we all done here on this earth in that space allotted to us between our first breath and our last? Did we say “I love you” enough? Did we spend enough time with those who meant  the most to us? Did we share the treasures that Our Lord blessed us with? Were we petty and cruel? Were we apathetic and unforgiving? Did we waste our hours in front of a computer screen or television screen when we could have been sitting across a table drinking coffee and laughing with that person we loved most in the entire world? Did we lend a hand to the lonely and lost? Did we share? Did we love? What are the sum of our days?

I cannot go back and relive one lost second of my life. If I could, I would gather all my cousins around me and we would spend endless hours just laughing and talking and drinking sweet tea and eating pecan pie way into the late hours of the night.

It is said that time waits for nobody. This is true. You nor I can stop its passage. You nor I have the power to go back and spend one more second with those whom we loved. Once time passes, it is gone forever.

I plan to call my cousin Libby tonight and make plans to spend a week with her in the spring. This life is so precious and fragile; none of us are guaranteed tomorrow.

Libby and I talked earlier about how Betty is home with Our Lord and that she is no longer suffering. I truly believe this to be the case. God created us and we return to Him. I truly believe that one day I will have a homecoming and I will see my Lord face to face and that I will see Betty and I will see all those whom I have loved in this life.

This life is not the end; death is not the end. Our spirits are eternal.

For now, I say Good night Betty, but I know that at the end of these earthly days, I will be reunited with her and all those whom I have loved.

Good night, Betty.

 

Copyright 2020 Jenny W. Andrews