January 5, 1925
It would have been my father’s 90th birthday. He passed away in 1977 after a year-long battle with cancer. I was nine years old when he died.
I’m not writing to commemorate his legacy today; I’ve done this before. Other random blog posts have revealed I haven’t many memories of my father. I’m okay with that as I’ve had time to get used to the absence.
The contemplation that has been on my mind for quite sometime is the disillusions I’ve had with death having faced it at such a young age. Dare I say I became comfortable with the idea knowing there is an afterlife with Christ. I didn’t fear dying. In fact, the idea became appealing as life became more challenging. This is where my title comes from… the scripture referenced is from 1 Corinthians 15:55. I thought about it a great deal when my mom passed away five years ago. I was happy for her to pass on from her physical and mental suffering. She lived a good life and we had many memories to bring peace and comfort.
I’m a random thinker and my thoughts often appear disjointed. I have a dozen rapid thoughts as I pass from one topic to another. I’m not surprised many will find this post peculiar but there is a connection, albeit somewhat loose with a morose conclusion.
Some who follow my writing contemplate dark issues. I’m not afraid to write about difficult topics. When it comes to suicidal thoughts, I would sit down with anyone, including perfect strangers, to help them sort through their emotions.
[Mysteriously, the rest of this post is missing.]