In Fifty Years

I wish death could mean death. I wish the end of something truly was the end and that closure existed. I suppose that is not how we are designed, since there is heaven and all.

But in this earthly world, can we ever be finished? Can relationships ever end? Can we ever let go of the past?

In 50 years my mother tells me that she will share all the family secrets. Fifty years from now I will be 70. Seventy old to have my own family secrets and 70 old to have my own family. Will I want to know the secrets still or will I have let go of the past?

I am always told to embrace the present and I try. I let the past lay and I let the future rest in the back of my thoughts. I spend time thinking on what it means to be alive at this instant and appreciate each breath I take.

It's cliche, I know, but I only know can live this way. If the past doesn't come with me into the future then I let it be. I lay it down; I find my closure. The absence of closure is the presence of anxiety.

And it takes everything in me to resist anxiety.