Well, two days after I wrote the last post my Dad's cancer took a serious turn for the worse. His doctor said it was time to call in Hospice. I don't think I've written a lick since then. Not only have I not had more than a spare minute here or there, which is fine, but when I have had an opportunity to write, I felt too guilty.
I just can't indulge in something I find so pleasant as writing when my Dad is dying, you know? The funny thing is that he wouldn't grudge me that joy. It's just me an my conscience.
Soon, yes, soon I will be writing again. Either this will all be over or I'll work it out before then. In the meantime, I'm praying that my Dad will be comfortable, happy and know that he is loved.
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I find that even when my hands are not busy writing, my mind keeps revisiting moments past, present and future (what was, what is and what may be). It is in these "visitations" that some of the most meaningful words are born. It is because they come not from imagination, but from real passion... the heart. Do not avoid that which gives you pleasure.. it is not selfish... it is sanctuary. I will keep a light burning in that place called peace for you and your thoughts.
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