Is this my final goodbye? I do not know. Is this just another visit? Who can tell me? When the storm comes, will I be so far away, so very far away, that I’ve left them all alone? How can I live? How can I die? One week, gone so quick, and swamped with so many interruptions, so little time to actually be here—and it’s gone. I want to weep. I want to scream. I just want to get a good night’s rest. Crumbling façade that I am, I just want this terror to end; good or bad, God, this interim, this horrible unknowing, waiting, expecting, it seems too much for me.
My God, my Father in Heaven, your will, even this unknown waiting and dreading. I accept it as your will. Help me to walk the path you lay down. God, I am so afraid.
Pretty soon, I must leave my home again, but will I ever come back?
Tale Told 