The older I get, the worse I sleep. Is it age, or the medication age seems to demand I take? Then again, what does it matter? I am awake in the dark, alone with my thoughts, and I have more than six decades to contemplate.
The Broken Road getting me here is long. So is everyone else's. I'm not complaining about my Broken Road, it has made me who I am today, and will make me who I'll be in the future. Yet at night, listening to the love of my life breathe in peaceful sleep, I find I reflect more on the bumps and potholes the road laid out before me.
Yes, I think too on the smooth places, the friends that have been there in times good and bad.
I think of my friends. David, whom I've known since Kindergarten, and Kent going back to about 3rd grade. Ken H, who while, in grade school got me into Church. In high school, there was Nancy, Sharon, Fred, Mel, Harm, Tom, Bear, Ken F, Diane, Howard, Marcia, and most often Sandi and the long-Broken Road that lead me back to her. I think of the many others after high school. The people I served with, they too are touchstones in my life. They were there then, and are here now. They each played and with few exceptions, still play a part on my Broken Road, even though except for a few, we haven't had a face to face is more time than I care to admit to. Yet, they are there. Some not far from where we all met, some in states far away. Distance has not faded our friendship or each other's influence on our personal Broken Road.
I think of those that entered and walked with me no matter how short the sharing of the Broken Road was, and wonder how they are now? It is them, I reflect on the most. What was my part on their Broken Road? Did I help, or hinder? How has the Broken Road changed them, helped them to grow? What new friends did they make that were there for them in times of need?
It seems with social media it would be easy to reestablish contact with all of those that shared our Broken Road. In some cases, it has, in others, not so much. Some I know are online and my reaching out has been ignored. Ignored for reasons only they know. I must accept it, though I often wonder why. Maybe the Broken Road led them in another direction, made them into someone I don't need on my Broken Road. Or worse, I was not a help but a stumbling block and became the person they don't need on their road. Do I want to know?
The question is full of problems. What would I learn about me? Would I be faced with something I thought was known only to me? We all have secrets and we all want to keep them.
In the end, yes. I do. I want to know. They were my friend, I cared then, and I care now. I reached out, they were friends and that is what matters. I think about them in the wee hours of the night, wishing them the best, hoping they each have found happiness and peace. And I hope someday, our Broken Roads will cross in some way. If fences need mending, then I pray we will. If we can't mend them, then I pray we can still be there for each other. We are each now who we are, in part because we laughed cried together on the same Broken Road no matter how brief we traveled together. We laughed, because life hurts, and it's the only thing to make it stop hurting.May you walk in the love of God and love those God sent to you.
Your friend, then, now, and forever.