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Dear
A renowned writer she is. A late bloomer of sorts. Only after retirement at 58, she picked up her pen. A fifty novels since then and now .. an amazing productivity for the next twenty years. But it all started with love for writing that persisted throughout her life.
So she wanted to write a note today .. to put the pen down..
Not the pen, no longer the pen, the key boards..
"Dear to me is so much more than just words and feelings for family and friends or self.
People speak of love as self love, blood thicker than water love, kinship, camaraderie, friendship, mate , children .. Or it is physical, emotional, romantic or not..
Yet is that all?
Love is profound ... From the love that each cell of our body feels towards another to keep working on till the last date. Love is the cell that feels towards its life to be born from soil that's dry and barren yet sprouts info hope.
The chemistry of love is not as simple as the emotion of want. In itself the love of mother is selfless, but when there are many children .. even that selfless love can have layers.
So celebrate love in all form. In nature , in us, out of us. There is little less or more than it, that gives us hope or fires our spirit. Love as all that is dear must be loved. But love without attachment , without fear and make an environment of such for all.
Dear is love. Isn't it? "
She sighed, this article in her possible death bed, with none beside her was desr. She looked at the bed stand and smiled at photos of people who have left her willingly and some unwillingly as life is mortal. It was her time to join the ones in Netherland and float into ether. No memory will remain of this life. Yet till the last moment she held those memories dear and gave a slight smile of one who lived and loved well. But most of all never feared loneliness and knew how to set people free. Of all the loves , today she missed her beloved Jacko the most. A tabby of sixteen years. His going away suddenly last week at the garden, smelling late roses, indicated it was time for her to let go too.
And dear dear.. so did she.
© All Rights Reserved
So she wanted to write a note today .. to put the pen down..
Not the pen, no longer the pen, the key boards..
"Dear to me is so much more than just words and feelings for family and friends or self.
People speak of love as self love, blood thicker than water love, kinship, camaraderie, friendship, mate , children .. Or it is physical, emotional, romantic or not..
Yet is that all?
Love is profound ... From the love that each cell of our body feels towards another to keep working on till the last date. Love is the cell that feels towards its life to be born from soil that's dry and barren yet sprouts info hope.
The chemistry of love is not as simple as the emotion of want. In itself the love of mother is selfless, but when there are many children .. even that selfless love can have layers.
So celebrate love in all form. In nature , in us, out of us. There is little less or more than it, that gives us hope or fires our spirit. Love as all that is dear must be loved. But love without attachment , without fear and make an environment of such for all.
Dear is love. Isn't it? "
She sighed, this article in her possible death bed, with none beside her was desr. She looked at the bed stand and smiled at photos of people who have left her willingly and some unwillingly as life is mortal. It was her time to join the ones in Netherland and float into ether. No memory will remain of this life. Yet till the last moment she held those memories dear and gave a slight smile of one who lived and loved well. But most of all never feared loneliness and knew how to set people free. Of all the loves , today she missed her beloved Jacko the most. A tabby of sixteen years. His going away suddenly last week at the garden, smelling late roses, indicated it was time for her to let go too.
And dear dear.. so did she.
© All Rights Reserved
