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My father in law died with a pen in his hand. His heart crossed that last line of time. He was at the dining room table paying bills. Isn't that something? Life ending in the middle of his most important sentence. His girls said he died doing what he loved, paying mama's bills. Life boils down to arithmetic. The simplicity of it: addition, the gathering of years; subtraction, the relinquishing of fears. Somewhere in the middle of solving our problems, we've got one moment to say it plainly. And maybe, it isn't in what we say or how we say it. Maybe it's in our actions. The pen just a mechanism. Others decide if we're paying bills or writing love lessons. We might not be given the opportunity to speak love at the right time, maybe it's an accumulation of sitting at the dining table paying bills year after year. The pen just a mechanism to show what the heart has already shown. I miss you pops. I know you're up there auditing heaven's riches teaching me how to get the most out of each sentence.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2015




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Book: Reflection on the Important Things