Am I broken?

Are we ever whole?

We, as a mass, us humans, with our weak bodies, but bodies capable of healing, do we have minds that heal? Can we ever heal our souls? Are we, once broken, never whole?

I am finding it difficult to sit here today, pretending as though the project I work on is the center of my existence. It is not. I have so much more I could be doing, so much more that matters. Sometimes you are so clearly called away, the sound is deafening. And yet, my responsibility to this place keeps me in my chair. I must work. I must get a check. I must go on. But today, oh just today, why must I be here? My family needs me.

Is it coincidental that as our country falls to pieces, so do all of our lives? Or is it this time in my life? Should I expect that, due to my age, it is inevitable that the people I love will start to grow frail, and that there will come a day when I am told their journey has come to and end? Should I have seen it coming? Probably. But did I? No. I hear the words "hospice" and "little time" and I think "when did we get to this point?" Where was I? Did I miss it? Was I not paying attention?

Now I sit here, trying to focus on the In Design formatting on my desktop and the stacks of phone calls I need to make, and the projects that must be found and written about, and yet I can barely see the monitor through my tears.

And I just don't care. There are some things more important, more sacred than this. I know that.