I want to write about things that take place in my home lately, but it seems too much to share. Not because it's morbid or disgusting but because at times it's painfully ordinary. I don't let it get to me much, but I hear the sadness coming from an aging voice speaking over the phone in the back bedroom asking a man who is speaking in numbers today and pushing chairs back and forth in the cafeteria because he must finish his work, " Do you love me Sweet Pea?" She hasn't figured it out, yet, that Sweet Pea no longer knows he's Sweet Pea. He's gone to a place that sometimes mixes love and hate into a brown mess and deposits it inappropriately. It's sad. I'm not so much affected by it now as when Mama wandered in a world none of us could visit because all the keys were lost. I begged God much and shed so many tears for her that it gave me a shot in the arm that bolsters me up for these kinds of things, possibly for the rest of my living days, but even still, sometimes it's very sad to witness. I guess "I'm just sayin'" to you who know what I speak of, I've had my turn, and I know your pain.
My child, help your father in his old age, and do not grieve him as long as he lives;
even if his mind fails, be patient with him;
because you have all your faculties, do not despise him
for your kindness will not be forgotten.
Sirach 3:12-14
Peace. Love, Linda
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