Friday, 26 April 2013

Signing Off

I wonder what I should write. Should I write of days gone by, of memories in the mist, of times past with their joy and struggle, when I was whole and strong? Should I write of now as I near the end of my life's road, of things today and immediate? There are a great many times when I sit down knowing exactly what I want to say, what I want to share. Then there are these times, times like now when I am simply uncertain.

It's not that my mind is not filled with thought. This thing in my head will never stop. It creates as I sleep. I am as unable to control it as I am unable to control my legs, my feet, my toes. My brain does not seem to have an off switch. Even when I want it to stop, it continues. I keeps on going and going, like the Energizer Bunny in the battery commercials.

Where is what I know for sure. For every moment that I live there is a story. Each breath that I take is unique, different from the last. Life, even trapped in this chair, only able to see in a narrow band out my window, is constantly changing. It's the same inside my head. My "internal vision" is vast in scale, massive in scope. In my head I see not just today, but yesterday and tomorrow. This inside story is without restriction of time and space. It goes on.

Shall I tell you of the tiredness of the moment or the exhaustion of the day or the soreness in my arms? Shall I share a hope, a dream, a wish? Should there be more stories of childhood, tastes of life on board, thoughts of what might have been or might be? Is there something brewing, steaming, cooking in my mind that needs to come out, fully formed and ready for consumption? Are there questions I have been asked that need to be answered?

Every morning is a birth, a delivery of thought that forms in my mind and expulses through my fingers. I cannot help it. This need to write is persistent, as persistent as the sea. This need to express is propounded, expounded and then simply pounded out on the keyboard.

There will come a time when I cannot write, when even the keyboard will be too much for me. There will come a time when my mind will be silenced as this disease steals even my fingers from me. There will come a time when I can no longer share this vivid internal life.

Maybe that will be the sign. Not yet. Maybe then.

1 comment:

  1. Dearest boy I am so sad along with you. This horrible disease is stealing all you hold dear. I would pray but I know that wouldn't help at all, so I pray that you can find a way to deal with it that helps you. My dear son I pray for you every day even though I know there is no answer. I love you all the time.