Picture this:

You grow up, get married.

The two of you buy a house, nothing fancy

Just a quiet little fix-me-up in a safe neighborhood.

The two of you fill the house with kids

Taking each day one at a time.

There's laughter

There's tears,

But most importantly, there's happiness built into the walls

More time passes and the kids are all adults with families of their own

You start to realize that exhaustion spreads through your bones

And the house seems to be getting larger

You stare into the mirror at your graying hair and

Can't quite piece together exactly how you got so old.

You glare into the glass and the image scowls back and you

Discover you don't recognize yourself.

You brush it off and smile because your house, your life
  Is your identity so it's no problem

A few years later,

Death steals your spouse.

With them, they take the bigger half of your heart

You honestly don't have the desire or strength

To keep living

Longer than you'd hoped,

You realize that life keeps moving

Despite the pain and sadness

You look at your house, and remember all the times

The two of you spent tacking up memories.

The first words, the first steps

Hundreds of "firsts" swirl together.

Then you look at your kids

And see a little piece of you in each of them

You find the strength to continue in realizing that

They still need you

Time takes everything away eventually,

Because you know your body is failing

The hundreds of doctors all tell you the same thing.

Time is all you need,

But there isn't a lot left.

Your body betrays you

And your family notices.

Some of them help the best they can,

But the majority don't

You make excuses for them because it's easier

Than admitting to yourself that

Despite the fact that you gave them everything,

They couldn't bother to return the favor.

The same majority that you gave life to

Is threatening to pull you away from your home- your life!

The ONLY thing you have left.

How do you tell someone they can't live?!

It doesn't make sense to you.

You realize that time is short

But you don't have the words to make them

Comprehend the urgency of the situation

You listen to arguements of "What's Best" and it

Makes you feel hopeless and small,

Because the people you love the most

are the very thing that's wrenching away

Any hope you have left.

Don't tell me that hurts less than a broken bone

You don't believe in God anymore,

But every night you pray to whatever is listening

Just in case.

And as you look around at the life you've led

You think that maybe the failing use of your body

Isn't actually the failing use of your body.

Maybe it's just a reminder that

It's okay to let go.