It was a rough week for me this past week. I thought about the life that was snuffed out and the tale that would be left untold. I wondered what, if anything, anyone would remember about the life that was lived. Would her children keep her memory alive? Or would the passage of time erase all memory of her existence? She was next to the youngest of six children....a very young 59 years old. She had 3 children and 3 marriages. Some would say that her tale has been told, and that it was a very sad tale indeed. Yet I often wonder at times like these what others would say about me. Selfish, I know....but I would not like to die without my tale being told.
It stuck me that I notice the similarities in a tale now being told for a young woman whose children were sired by 3 different fathers. What must their life be like? I noticed the words that were thrown around about my aunt's children....words like immoral and corrupt. Is that that unborn baby boy's lot? Will he become a criminal or can he be saved? How about those now adult children of my aunt's?
It will be a rough road. There is no turning back....for this tale must be told...for this tale must be told.
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