If only...

Today we went to the cemetery again. As it will be All Saints Day soon we had to clean up father's grave, lay down some flowers, light candles and say a small prayer. Only I couldn't pray. The air was biting, my hands stiff with coldness. Aren't cemeteries inappropriate places to communicate with the deceased? Dear father, I think about you quite often. Your values are my yardstick. Sorry, but I couldn't say a decent prayer for you at the cemetery. It will be eight years soon since you died. You're in my heart though...

Taking stock at sixty

Crappy feelings

Good or bad? On one hand, a general release. One can say anything and will not be taken too seriously. One can no longer expect too much. What is there left? Will I fall in love one more time? Will a man fall in love with me? Or will it just be the ongoing drudgery with no uplifting experiences?

On the other hand, sadness. Life has been decent to me if not too generous. Overall, one is still optimistic. For how long? My greatest fear? A creeping disease. It could be just round the corner...so many people around me are suffering. The biggest wish: let there not be any nasty disease, to strike me or my loved one. Everything else can be borne.