posted on Jul, 4 2020 @ 11:31 PM
The old man had a birthday today.
He had a hard life. The day he was born, his father tried to kill him. Everyone who watched said it was a miracle he survived, but that he wouldn't
go far anyway. He was too weak and the deck was stacked against him. He had a tendency to do things his own way and listen to his heart. That heart
wasn't perfect, either. He made a lot of mistakes along the way. Sometimes he was even a bully, but more often he was a source of strength to those
He was an inventor. He racked up a long list of inventions that helped mankind everywhere. Those made him wealthy, and he chose to share that wealth
with others around him. Many times he found others suffering and used his wealth to ease their pain. Sometimes the people he helped turned their back
on him, but he still listened to his own heart and refused to be less than he felt he should be. That only made him more powerful.
When mean people stood up and started bulling others around him, he came to their aid against the bullies. He stood his ground to protect them, and
suffered many wounds doing so. Some healed, but some did not.
I looked at him today, and saw sadness in his eyes. Instead of a young, vibrant, strong man, I saw a man struggling against the world. Those he helped
had turned against him. Some of his best friends had left him. Others were backing away. Still, he followed his heart and tried to do things his way,
the way that had served him and those around him so well for so long. Maybe it was the cancer that caused them to shy away. The cancer that had taken
over his body from within, ravaging his very body.
He wasn't lying down or in a hospital. He knew the cancer was spreading, and he knew that if it continued he would die. But still he was standing,
with his head held high and a spark of life in his eye. The wrinkles of worry and hardship showed clearly, but that spark was still there. He still
held out hope that he would defeat this enemy as surely as he had defeated all others. Perhaps it was that realization that, come what may in the
future, he had lived his life by his own rules and had prospered not just himself, but everyone around him. Whatever it was, it still lit a fire in
those eyes that could not be extinguished by those who were telling him his days were numbered.
In some ways today felt like a funeral more than a birthday. I knew, as surely as he did, that the outcome of this latest fight is far from certain. I
hope he makes it to his next birthday. If he doesn't, I will miss the old man. Everyone else will, too, although I don't think they realize just how
much. It's just human nature to not appreciate the things one has until they're gone.