Life After…

Splattering, splashing. Frantically I waved both hands in a 
desperate move to be saved. No one seemed to notice. 
They all went on with their lives as if my life meant nothing.
I got pulled in again, these tides aren't joking! 
I didn't picture my end of life like this! It was supposed 
to be romantic - hand in hand with hubby at 120 years old... 
That seems so far fetched now. The waves were pulling me down,
the weight far from bearable. 
I searched for a life coach - none in sight, a righteous
looking fellow (Jesus behaviour won't let me drown) - fellow 
too busy chatting away.

Just as I began to black out, memories of my childhood 
flashing through my mind; I felt a lifting. 
Like I had a number of hands working together to save me. 
Maybe this was after life... the Angels had come for me. 
Although I had imagined it a bit different, I stopped 
struggling. For once, I let go. 

The hands seemed to guide me, I let them... There was 
something about this transition, it felt warm against 
my cold body, the hands were kind.

I felt the urge to breathe. 

Mustering the strength, I took a deep breath - it was fresh, 
like I had never taken in air. It was refreshing to my soul, 
it renewed my strength and gave me life. For the first time 
in a while, I felt free, I felt strong, I felt joy, I felt 
alive again.

These hands are the physical representation of God in 
my life. The people He placed around me to bring me back up 
whenever life threatens to drown me.

My family

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