Some dates are seared into our memories and leave scars on our hearts. For me, that date is April 18, 2005.
When I flipped my calendar to April, I didn’t think of flowers, thunderstorms, morel mushrooms, or even mowing the grass. I mentally, went back in time and remembered that April was the cruel month…when the beginning melded into the end. The good guy lost, and the relentless disease won.
I’d been so busy this month that it didn’t seem possible that today was already the eighteenth day of the month. The month began in Washington DC at the Alzheimer’s Forum. Then, there was the catching up to do with all the projects I’d put on hold to take time away, including the annual scourge known as taxes.
Today, the eighteenth of April, was a busy day. At nine o’clock this morning, I drove to Versailles for a 50-year class reunion committee meeting. Reconnecting with my former classmates has been a positive experience. As usual, when our work was done, we went to lunch.
After lunch, I picked up my mom and my aunt to go to the nursing home for our monthly music gig. We began setup at 2:00, and began our hour-long program at 2:30. One of my former classmates had brought some scanned photos for the reunion book and stayed to watch the program. “This is a lot of talent in one family,” she said.
My mom and I had a short visit over a cup of coffee, and then I headed home. The sun was setting in the west by the time I pulled into the garage. The day was almost done. The black aura lifted some as the day dwindled down.
Tonight, I put the leash on the dog, slipped on my coat, and stepped out into the darkness. The clouds parted and the moon slid into view.
As often happens in the still of the night I was left with my thoughts and memories. The sorrow seeped into the fiber of my being, and hid beneath the surface. I thought about how Jim had always been a part of my life, and always would be. I remembered how Jim, a man of faith, told me that death was merely closing one door and opening another.
A cold breeze sent shivers through my body. It was as if he had whispered to my heart: the end has melded into the beginning, and the good guy won after all.
Copyright © April 2019 by L.S. Fisher