There are times when the familiar cold hand reaches out to me, accompanied by a darkness in the skies of my mind. Like the disruptive friend who just doesn’t seem to get the hint, no matter how blunt you make it, or maybe it is more like the uncomfortable yet obligatory visit of your parents that you have to endure at least every now and then.
These days, when I feel the presence of darkness, I find myself reflecting. I have been here before, many times. Sometimes I have been alone, and in those times I came close to succumbing. Other times, I had help, and it is to these that I focus.
There have been a number of people who have come into my life at a time that I needed some acknowledgement, some acceptance, some love. They did not do much. They showed they cared. They showed I was acceptable. They gave me hope.
Sadly, many of these people have little to do with me now, having either moved away in search of their own happiness, or worn weary of me as time so often wears us down. Some I may have inadvertently slighted, for which I will always regret. Others have simply vanished.
Still, these people did something special for me. They opened their hearts, and shared it with me for a while, and it is a treasure that no amount of money can buy. These are cherished memories, gifts of immense wealth.
For each of these gifts, I hold a special place in my heart, regardless of our current standing. These people will always be welcome if ever our paths cross again. I cannot value their kindness enough. They are special to me.
So as the cold hand of darkness reaches for me again, I find some strength from those gifts, those treasures, those memories. I draw on them so as to weather the storm, alone if I have to. I will not flinch or cry out, because I am stronger for it.
And yet a voice inside says “Wouldn’t it be nice if someone was there for you again….”
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