Starting the Whole World Living?
Sadly, probably not. But it’s the voice those of us Of A Certain Age remember better than the Stigwood Era:
RIP, Robin Gibb.
Sadly, probably not. But it’s the voice those of us Of A Certain Age remember better than the Stigwood Era:
RIP, Robin Gibb.
Old age is like living in a mansion where slowly the rooms are destroyed. Another room just went. It is starting to feel cramped in here.
dilbert:
I wrote the eulogy for my mom’s passing based upon Hopper’s painting “House on the Pamet River” http://www.museumsyndicate.com/item.php?item=9766 which is along similar lines on which you speak. A beautiful painting which I could never afford; but, what thoughts it provokes.
House
“Much of life is like a house. As children, we all start out within one room of it and it becomes comfortable until we yearn to explore the world around us. As we mature and our lives change, we keep adding extensions to that one-room house. Rooms that are experiences, those that we create and return too time after time to enjoy the warmth, some that we are forever trapped in and forced to endure, and those which we leave behind forever boarded up. As we go through life, we add more rooms to our simple beginnings.
I returned to the one room created for me in the beginning of my life. A room that was made so warm and safe for me by those who loved me. The room was no longer as bright as I remembered it in my youth. Its windows to the world were tarnished with the years of life, and the light within was fading before my eyes. With each breath and sigh, the light dimmed in intensity. We stood and looked upon the room in which she lay, wondering if each breath would be the last. She laid there quietly, accepting whatever fate awaited her as we watched. Each of us had come so far from such humble beginnings and had added rooms to that very room from which we left behind. And now, we returned to live in its warmth once again while it was still open to us.
We said our goodbyes. The room is dark now and what is left to each of us is our memories of a time long past when life was simple and we were safe within its confines. I owe so much to a woman who created a room for me in her life.
Grace X X, the Mother of William, George, Paul, Debbie, and Cynthia, and the Wife of George X passed from this life leaving behind those who would keep her memories. June 21, 2008
Life is very much like living in a house which slowly ages. It matters what we place in the house which makes a difference.