Unfinished: What do I do with the untouched chili?

Unfinished.

Not started.

In complete.

Sums up the chili, still uneaten.

Still, uneaten.

A metaphor, I tell myself. Of:

This, unfinished life.

Incomplete. Not, started.

Started, in fits and starts. More fits, than starts.

Rinse.

Repeat.

Since my friend passed, I just can’t get past, just can’t seem to get beyond, to get through, to the next thing.

I find myself staring, silently, at chili I can no longer eat.

I find myself staring, silently, at words I wonder if are now as useful as this now, two week old, uneaten chili.

I find myself staring at you, beloveds, wondering if my absence has been as unnoticed as this congealed chili.

I find myself staring at God and Life and asking what need have they of decades of words seemingly piled away, uneaten, in inboxes.

Words written, in the hope that folks might find their voices, that they might find a bit of laughter, hope, joy…SOMETHING within words written, from a heart in search of other hearts in need of care.

One dear heart, stopped beating at New Year’s end. Causing one heart to…

When mom passed, ALL I wanted to do was shout to the heavens to get folk to understand how precious life is and to not waste it or their voices. Needed folks to know how very much their voices mattered. That THEY mattered.

After this loss, THIS loss, I am at a loss.

Of, words.

Of,…🤷‍♀️

I am at a loss.

Period.

Unsure, of the next sentence.

Uncertain, of the next step.

Unable, to see beyond.

Unafraid, to embrace this unknown.

I am unfinished.

What do I do?

What do I DO?

What do I do with this unfinished chili called me?

C

#YourLifeMattersToMe

• THE HAND FROM HEAVEN ✋🏾☁️🧻🤣
• COME SIT AT MY TABLE 🪑❤️‍🩹
• BELOVEDS, YOU CAN HAVE MY FLOWERS. I DON’T NEED THEM ANYMORE.
• Forgive them, Cassandra, God said to me
• Still In Love