Cannot wait for it to come to an end.
It’s been an endless procession of pain and misery and tears. Of death and destruction. Of negativity. Pessimism. Shattered hopes and dreams.
The world over. Not much in the way of good news anywhere.
People have been felled by bullets, by bombs, by acts of terror, by earthquakes, by floods and fires, by hurricanes and tornados. They’ve been taken because of alcohol and drug abuse. By their own hands, from cancer and heart disease and diabetes. From years of excess and years of neglect.
Some too soon and some from old age.
We’ve lost those we’ve never heard of and those we worshipped from afar. Those whose poetry and music and performances and stories and athletic prowess and acts of heroism and sacrifices we admired. They were our heroes and we counted on them to help us get through the trials and tribulations of our lives.
And now they’re gone.
One after another, in rapid succession. Too rapid. Way too rapid. There’s not even time for us to catch our breath in between.
Merle Haggard, Glen Frey, David Bowie, Prince, Leonard Cohen and Leon Russell — all gone this year. Muhammad Ali and Gordie Howe. Elie Wiesel. Harper Lee. Gene Wilder, Alan Richman. Morley Safer, just to name a few. All in the same damn year; and the year’s not over yet.
Unusual for me to be so morose. Note to self — and then there’s this, from Leonard Cohen …
The birds they sang
at the break of day
I heard them say
Don’t dwell on what
has passed away
or what is yet to be.
Ah the wars they will
be fought again
The holy dove
She will be caught again
bought and sold
and bought again
the dove is never free.
Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in.