A pondering of life
Right around Christmas my Godmother passed, joining my Godfather, silver and gold, dancing in heaven, together again. Her celebration of life was the other day and we couldn't attend, the weather was coming in. The time came and I took my communicator and connected to a link pre-sent and then I cast the live event on to the main screen so everyone in the room could see the same mix and mingle of familiar people. There they all were hugging and shaking hands, sometimes kisses on a cheek or two, in a little Catholic Church, needing much work and also doing much. There they were Barbados, the church has windows on each side of the alter looking out to the west coasts sea. When I was there last I watched a sail boat glide on the even surface as I listened to the sing song of the Barbadian accent around me, with Nat King Cole singing L.O.V.E. in the back ground, not a worry of the cameras all around us so someone somewhere else that couldn't make it to the small island could watch a different event at a different time, enshrined in a cloud.
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I was 15 and wild, visiting my Godparents in Barbados was a normal thing when we moved back to the States. One of the perks of my father's job was free air fare, always a nice way to go. One night we were up in the T.V. room and Aunt Maureen had her stories on, 'As The World Turns' the 1967 years as it was pulsed to the television through electric cords and cable wires, we girls were painting our nails. I chose a bright red and when I had finished she had me remove the colour and pick a pink, "You aren't old enough to wear red yet." I still wanted red painted nails but I understood the ways.
She was so ill for so long, lost in her mind, unable to escape the prions from folding. No one knows why this happens and how to stop it. My Godfather slept next to her until the day he died, until it was her turn. Their children, my cousins, cared for their mother and father as models of what to do. Now they move forward, wearing the pants and in charge of a legacy.
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The common knowledge base of our ancestors is three generations unless they become infamous of famous, and even then it's often not lived. Now these days people film themselves and the system absorbs what it grabs. The energy to grab all the information formed in the system is not available at this time.
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To describe to the past what future land looks like is never what we See, but bits and pieces of past human behavior analyzed and criticized, repeated till one day it's not.
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A pondering of life
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