I'm ready!
Posted on 08/08/2025 3:24:01 PM PDT by Jonty30
Several weeks ago, I had a serious health scare. The emergency appointment and ultrasound were attended alone. I did a ring-around of my friends and sisters, but they were away or otherwise occupied. All I wanted was someone to hold my hand and give me a bit of moral support, but on a sweltering hot day, I sat alone in the hospital waiting room – a solitary figure among a sea of cosy couples, with only my Kindle for company as I bounced off the walls with anxiety. While the scare turned out to be just that, the stark realisation that my friends weren’t really there for me when it counted, and that I was utterly alone, was an unpleasant wake-up call. As a childless, unmarried woman of 63, it is difficult to admit how terrified I am of ending up alone and being eaten by cats. Read Next: I tried eight types of coffee bean – a supermarket brand was the clear winner Without the silent contract between parent and child, Someone we look after and who can take care of us, the loneliness wears more and more heavily on me. I find it devastating to imagine ending my days isolated or worse, going gaga and incontinent in a care home. Like many women, I had always expected to get married, have children and maybe even a house in the countryside. It never happened, but not by design – I left it too late. Looking back, in my twenties and thirties, I was about as ready for the chains of matrimony as I was for joining the Women’s Institute. I didn’t want my life mapped out for me.
(Excerpt) Read more at msn.com ...
I missed your post, yesterday. In that same vein, here is one of my favorite poems:
‘Post Humus’
by Patti Tana
Scatter my ashes in my garden
so I can be near my loves.
Say a few honest words,
sing a gentle song,
join hands in a circle of flesh.
Please tell some stories
about me making you laugh.
I love to make you laugh.
When I’ve had time to settle
and green gathers into buds,
remember I love blossoms
bursting in spring.
As the season ripens
remember my persistent passion.
And if you come in my garden
on an August afternoon,
pluck a bright red globe,
let juice run down your chin
and the seeds stick to your cheek.
When I’m dead I want folks to smile
and say, “That Patti, she sure is
some tomato!”
To God be all praise...
What a lovely poem!
That explains a lot.
It’s in my folder of ‘stuff to have as part of my Funeral if I die before you’ for Beau. ;)
I'm ready!
I’m adding the popcorn meme to the folder, LOL!
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