It has been a busy three years since I last visited the mostly unexplored depths of my emotions locked in an uncharted lobe located in the interior of my skull. So here it begins:
Year of the Tiger started rough. Things were looking good around mid April, a period in my life where I had just emerged from the emotional hole of mourning after the death of Meredith. On this particular Wednesday, Mobley, with the help of Douglas County’s finest, had discovered the passing of our dear friend and lead engraver (she had passed unexpectedly after only 50 plus a few orbits). I also had some anger as her death was very preventable. And as I sat outside the shop on Thursday morning, having returned from Ellijay that fateful Wednesday evening, I received a text which altered my personal life drastically.
The counselors, psychologists and psychiatrists can theorize, analyze, discuss, rationalize, confuse and distort what 0ccured to me from that April day to the eleventh day of September. Those few months passed in a blur to me. When the aforementioned date arrived, I found myself standing between a very small chapel and the monument commemorating the central point of the continental US of A, reciting wedding vows. Leaving my residence of 30 plus years with its memories and ghosts behind, leaving Douglasville. Where in the coming months I built a cabin in the woods while my marriage never materialized.
The years of the Tiger being chased by the Rabbit was an era of which was endured. Two heart ablations, massive gout/arthritis attacks, cracked vertebrae, and damaged wrist ligaments cover the physical impediments. Emotional strains were off the chart as we were separated and then back together only to be separated again. To quote Harry Chapin “what ever we had once was gone.” The wind whispers, these times of turmoil will pass. All things shall pass. Just remember to keep breathing. Inhale, exhale. And as a reward for enduring without losing faith or turning to drink, the sunsets became an evening focal point of relaxation, calming and a time to count my blessings. The Lakeland RV and Cabin Resort has become my refuge. My Haven. My gift from God. A place to heal and recover.
I have a new mantra. I am not afraid of dying. I can say I even look forward to having all the questions of what happens after we die answered. But until the call comes, I have a lot of things to do. Don’t let the old man in.