I am a writer. I love words.
I believe that each word has a spiritual essence and when combined with other
words the coalation produces an awareness and a service in the categories of
information, empathy, discernment, compassion and understanding.
Through the years as an active
journalist and currently as a daily blogger and host of a weekly syndicated
radio talk show in commentary and poetry I remain enthused and enthralled with
the power of words.
But something happened the
other day that took my breath away and will test all of my experience.
My Ann, my wife of nearly
fifty-two years has been under hospice care for several weeks as she succumbs
to the indignity and pain of cancer. She asked me to help her write her obit.
She doesn’t want the usual
stuff that obituaries contain, like born, raised, survived by and in lieu of
flowers; she wants a one or two-line phrase that sums up her life and leaves a
positive message.
I have decades of shared
laughter, extended courtesies, kindnesses, conversations, tolerances, hugs, sacrifices,
camp fires, songs, candle light dinners and empty wine bottles to draw upon to tell
who this person called Ann truly is. To collate those experiences into one or
two line phrases is a knowingly impossible task.
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