The Essence of Life Must Be in The Cranberry Bogs

Today when everyone else in the world is whooping, hootin' and hollerin' about the Super Bowl I am sad.

While Madonna was singing her half time finale song "Like a Prayer" the beginning words to the song: "Life is a mystery, everyone must stand alone..."inspired thoughts and oh so many questions about the mysteries of life, faith, and beliefs.


     How can those "left behind" possibly bear the fact that they may never see their favorite grandmother, beloved father, loving husband or precious child again?  Most are comforted by the belief that there is life after death.
     Isn't  believing that loved ones who die will "pass" into a magical place, that they will be happy and at peace the only way that most people can cope with such losses?
    But why has there never been solid proof or evidence that such a place exists?
    Isn't it true that most people are suspicious of mediums, and spooky seances?
    But if billions of people can practice the rituals of the 22 major religions in the worlds, which are conducted by earthly humans, why wouldn't beliefs in other unconventional rituals be possible?
   They say that people who have faith, who believe in something, are happier, calmer and are better prepared to cope with life which includes death.  I envy those people.
     My favorite genre of fiction is the mystery novel.  If I pay close attention to the clues, I can usually guess "who done it" before the end of the book.  But even if the clues are not apparent, I know that the creative author will reward me by revealing the truth at the end of the story.
     I keep asking this question:  "Where are you Joe?"   
     What was revealed to my son as he took his last breath?  Was it the end of his story, or a new beginning?

     Today we visited a little county nature park which is practically around the corner from where we live.
And I, of so little faith cannot help but be in awe of the beauty of these surroundings.

 Perhaps it is a glimpse of a magical place. 

In season you can put on some hip boots and pick wild cranberries out of the bogs.

   Someone once told me that everyone has to believe in something.  She asked me what I believed in.  I answered that I believed in my son, Joe.   

 I believe that a person's mind and spirit, is an eternal flame.  

After all how can the essence of someone like him ever be extinguished?

       

     When I read Anna's diary, I feel her.  I picture her.  I hear her voice. Even though she was born 113 years ago and I am pretty certain she is no longer living on this earth,  her essence lives on.  

Here is today's entry from Anna's diary:

Tuesday February 5, 1929

Home until 2:30. Brought Junior to 360 and went to bank.  Supper at 360.  On way home stopped at Cousin Louise to inquire about Lena. In hospital since Thurs.