Dead Man Walking

Potential, opportunity and promise filled the weekend. Plans with family, chores requiring attention, and holiday preparations were on the menu.

I did nothing.

I rarely left the confines of my bed and bedroom.  I slept. I read. I eyed my task list.  I slept.  I stared at a blinking cursor as I roamed a blank mind for thoughts to share.  In the end, I shared the thoughts of another.

Once filled with activity and interaction, my world has become small and still.

I am a prisoner of my own existence, a dead man walking.

The Cost of Nothing

Time and opportunity are the first casualties. Squandered are the chances to live a life of meaning and intention. Traded are the moments with family, particularly my son and daughter, helping them grow, explore the world, getting to know others and themselves. Experiencing them.

Exchanged for what? Nothing. They are cheated. My wife is cheated. I am cheated.

An old anchor is tied to my spirit, a yoke heavy and unbreakable. My soul screams curses of guilt and shame.

I have known life without this burden, to live without merely existing. I know what it takes to slay the monster. All I have to do is take one step. Only one…one foot on solid ground and then the rest will follow.

I know how valuable it will be to the ones I love to rejoin them in life. It must be done and I am the only one who can do it. I want to give them this gift. They deserve it. I cannot allow us all to become casualties of this malady. They deserve a richer legacy. I owe it to them and to myself.

Sadly, I have allowed so many chances to pass by. Wave after wave of anxiety washes over me as I realize only so many moments are given and only so many remain before all the sand is gone.

Echoes from the Deep

I stare at the road ahead. Like water standing on the highway during the heat of a summer drive, the distance is only a mirage. I know the destination is not so far and I can imagine the light.

Yet, it is one thing to know and quite another to merely imagine.

The iron chain is strong and the weight cumbersome. It holds taught to the anchor buried somewhere deep in this tempestuous sea. My feet are lead and I am unsteady.

Though I have slept, rest is a stranger. I am tired. I am weary. Echoes fathoms below convict me.

I must move.