one woman's journey to wholeness…

souls leaving without saying good-bye…

Spoke to my old college buddy, M., this morning.

Her husband, C., keeled over and died in the middle of their conversation

in their hotel room

in Atlantic City

Friday morning.

There he was one minute yammering away

and then he was gone

in

a

split

second.

M. was asking him from the bathroom,

having just gotten out of the shower herself,

if he was going to shower next or

wait until morning?

“Now.” He answers her. “I can smell myself.”

Then...thud

She hears what sounds like something dropping on the floor

in the next room.

And sure enough…

something had dropped on the floor…

her husband.

He was stone, cold dead.

That makes me weep.

I weep not

for my friend, M.

nor for her husband, C.

I weep because life is so fragile…

so temporary…

so uncertain.

As I sit here at my window altar

writing these words,

I have no way of knowing if they will be my last

and if in a week or so

my daughter will  be using her

emergency key to enter my apartment

to dispose of my rotting, stinking body

after my soul had up and decided to leave today

without even saying good-bye.

That thought makes makes me laugh…

And think.

And I am then filled with gratitude

another beautiful day of life…

for having left this apartment yesterday

to meet up with my Sister Drum Slut, Y.

in Marcus Garvey Park

where I drummed my ass off

along with a handful of diehard drummers

squeezing in as much drumming as we can

before fall turns to winter

and it’s just too damn cold

to sit out there in the park

drumming for hours as if

our lives depended upon it.

And they do…

our lives…

depend upon it…

at least mine does…

We drummed as if our spirits

would up and leave

without

saying

good-bye…

if we didn’t drum for our lives…

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