I Just Don't Know

I have this layer of sadness about me, like the thick bitumen slick which recently covered English Bay in Vancouver. It's heavy, sitting darkly upon the waters of my emotions, already muddied by normal ebb and flow of feelings within me. Every good feeling, every bit of joy and happiness, must first fight through the thick slick of sadness on top before it can emerge into the light of day to lift me. This layer of sadness never goes away; at best sometimes it gets thinner, easier to puncture. Most times it's a fight to get through it.

As we get nearer and nearer to Calgary, I have truly mixed emotions about this voyage which is potentially coming to an end. I say potentially because the elevator in my building is still under repair. We are only half way through the three month estimate. I am checking with a couple of sources to get a better sense of when it might be done, so far with limited success. I've already been reminded that I was told three months, and nothing has happened to change that.

The mixed emotions, thus, revolve around heading home to a layer of uncertainty. Right now my contingency plan is to simply continue westward to Vancouver, there to visit my Mom and Ray, along with my kids and grandchildren. After all, I have presents for them. Another option is to take up temporary residence in Calgary; I have a couple of options there. Even with that, temporary residence will not have the needed tools for my wheelchair life, and if I am going to be uncomfortable, I might as well do that in Vancouver with my grandchildren nearby.

Take this uncertainty, add the constancy of melancholy with which I live, throw in a bit of pain, a bunch of mobility struggles, and a few drops of physical struggle, and the layer of bitumen atop my emotional self can get pretty heavy. I have asked God to take this load from me, yet each morning I seem to awaken with it still upon my shoulders. It is that which I must carry.

Carry it I shall. I really have no other choice. I will find a way to have something good come of it, as best I can. I will pierce the layer of sadness, that bitter bitumen atop the troubled waters of my spirit. I will just keep going. Then, on Sunday, I will get to Calgary. After that, I just don't know.