The season is for family, loved ones. What brings joy for many brings emphasis on the lack of family for others. In this case, family means the traditional one a la Norman Rockwell. A room full of adults laughing and children racing through propelled by a sugar rush.
This season reminds us we have no "family." Are we broken? We all want to be loved. Sometimes, though, we want a love that does not exist. We set the standards so high we fail to see that imperfections leave marks of character and mystery. We cheat ourselves out of the life we think we need.
Perhaps our mission, if you will, in this life is to touch someone in such a way as to change his life. We might not even know it happened. The results might not affect one person, but hundreds. One never knows; but in your case, I know, because you affected me. And many, many others say the same.
"Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might
have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light."
You have no failed deeds to rage about, my friend. You deserve your rest. May peace and love surround you.
The mailman took a holiday.
Later.
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