I always knew I’d come back, just didn’t know how. Here at the end of the beginning, it seems so natural (already) that I feel no fear, dread, or even a bad premonition. It is as it should be.
I was lucky (some would say unlucky) to maintain full mental stability, as physically, I declined ever so quickly with each passing year, especially the last few months and weeks. But my lifelong love of music was so soothing that I was allowed to ignore the state of my ‘wreck of a body,’ and, instead, I was able to fully appreciate one aspect of old age; the ability to (as my father-in-law always said) enjoy my steak, immensely (screw the cholesterol).
Of all the possible conclusions, this one never occurred to me; a slight surprise to an intellect such as mine. Oh yes, of course, before you point it out - I do admit to a subpar ability to properly compose my thoughts, but that is of no consequence (much like my last cholesterol numbers). After all, it’s not the initial form upon an arrival, but the impact that follows.
Remarkably, the lack of a physical presence is less alarming than the total absence of time, but upon reflection neither should be (a worry), and aren’t.
I am cognizant of where I’m at, though unable to explain or define it. So, once again, a seemingly signifiant event presents itself, and then slides harmlessly to the side. Who can find fault with that?