Learning To Fly 4-22-2021

And days go on. Days counting down slowly and cruelly since I lost one of my best friends. Cindy Bergin, I miss you with every inch and fiber of my being. When I had forgotten how to swim, you taught me how to float, then how to swim again, and then you taught me how to fly.

And how do I go on? Without you, I would have never learned to stand on my own, to walk away when the moments called for it. You taught me self-sufficiency and hope for the future.

Cindy, you were one of the most self-aware and self-sufficient person I have ever know. You lived life to its fullest. How do I go on?

It is hard to put into words what you meant to me and what I know you meant to all your other friends and family. You were a light in the darkness. You were a fierce friend, willing to drop everything in an instant to support your friends.

I enjoyed writing with you. You were wild and free and happy to go to the extremes of the universe. Our ships will never fly again without you. How do I go on?

I remember the first time I met you in person. It was at Breyerfest. I hadn’t even known you collected Breyer horses and then you were coming down to Kentucky. We passed each other by at first, neither of us recognizing the other for a moment. And then you were there and my life began to change for the better.

After that, I looked forward to Breyerfest not only because it was a celebration of the model horses I had collected since childhood, but because you were there. Going home from Breyerfest was like a loss, but there was always next year. Now there are no more next years.

Nine hours is too far to separate friends, but, at the same time, those nine hours meant nothing. We saw each other once a year and yet, no matter how long between times we talked, every time was like we had spent no time apart. How do I go on?

You made me laugh at the world and at myself, but, even more important, you showed me the power of love. You never ended a phone call without saying “I love you.” And I suspect, you ended every call with every friend and family member with those exact same words. How do I go on?

I know, one day, the pain of your loss will fade. It will never go away completely, but it will fade. I will learn how to celebrate your life and live with the emptiness you left in mine. But right now all I have is tears for the loss I will feel for the rest of my life.

Cindy, you were, and still are, a friend of a lifetime. I will never know another person like you. How do I go on?

More importantly, how do we all go on without you?

Question of the Week 4-21-21

What words or phrase do you need to hear today?

“Everything is going to be all right.”

That’s what I need to hear today. Two weeks ago, I lost one of my best friends. My whole world changed and I need to know that, in the end, things will be okay. My world will keep turning and the empty space in my life will not always be so large and….. empty. I can’t even write about it, the pain is so fresh. So, today, I just need to know it will be all right in the end.

FLASH FICTION FOR THE PURPOSEFUL PRACTITIONER- 2017 WEEK #09

parking-lot
https://pixabay.com/en/city-people-street-night-lights-1487891/

 

The challenge for Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner will open early Wednesday morning, February 22nd. Allow the prompt to take you anywhere you want to go! (Limit your stories to 200 words.)

This challenge is open until 11:00 pm Friday night, March 3rd, 2017.

FFftPP


The emptiness slashed against the sharp edges of his soul, leaving him raw and bleeding inside. The rows of abandoned parking spaces ran endlessly on, he imagined, to the end of the world. Where had they gone, those mothers and sisters and daughters who once flocked to this empty expanse of asphalt and the abandoned mall beyond?

“Gone,” he said aloud to nobody. “Gone.” As if repeating the word made it not so. Not so lonely; not so abandoned; not so empty. How was it they all disappeared yet the parking lot remained, flat and even and new?

He’d seen nobody since emerging from the shelter. No living being. No bodies. Nothing but empty expanses and abandoned buildings.

Was he the last man on earth? Was this a dream? It felt too real to be a dream. Too empty to be a dream.

He moved towards the abandoned mall. Stealing hurt, but he needed to survive. Was it theft if nobody else was alive? Scavenging, maybe? Maybe not.

Approaching the doors, he saw the hint of a shadow move behind the glass, just a glimpse of motion. Something seen out the corner of one’s eye.

Afraid, he began to run.