When I found out that a friend of mine was on her deathbed, it was necessary for me to leave work asap. The thought of being around other people horrified me because crying at work is not the best thing to do.
The thought of seeing her unresponsive body laying in a hospital bed without any explanation was more than what I thought I could deal with since my father was in the state of affairs in June. Instead, the drive to my mother’s house was made where I remained in shock.
Upon waking early Saturday morning, more news reached my ears about her untimely demise. It caused a whirlwind of babbling aloud. I want my life to mean something. What have I done with my life? Death happens to everyone and the exact date is not revealed. The clock continues to click us closer to our final debut. When my day arrives, what will be left behind to show that my feet once walked this earth? What will I say to my ancestors about the sacrifices that were made on my behalf?
My answers are few and far between. There are some young musicians that credit me with their passion. There may be a few women that feel more empowered because of my efforts. There are many that will say my music uplifted them. However, in my entire life, the overall scope of my breathing on a daily basis….what have I done? This is tied into my life purpose. Is it being fulfilled? Perhaps these questions will continue to be pondered….