more I advanced in years and the more it requires a reflection on aging, which is omnipresent, even if I do not cry on or even mestesso box - I feel old.
I think I have many more years to live, once past the obstacle of 54 years.
Before arriving at that age, I often wondered about my future and wondered if - in terms of age - I survived my father.
I told myself that if I lived more than 54 years that were granted to him I would have lived much longer.
always thought patterns are organized acts to deceive ourselves: my father used to say that he would live long, starting from the fact that both his parents were from long-lived families.
Then, despite his optimistic forecast was betrayed by a fate that the waiting at the gate.
Elsewhere, had been written otherwise.
So, I took to think this would have been weird for me to survive him, meaning to pass the halfway point of 54 years.
With apprehension, I turned off my 54 candles and nothing happened.
The sands of time for me to continue to flow.
What I lived for many still, despite everything, I still think so today.
Perhaps, more peaceful, even now after the camp for more than a quarter of a century longer than him, I realize with unease and regret that my father are left behind me in the sense that he is now younger than me by almost thirty years.
Its representation - in my mind - is stuck at that point as the frame of a film still image, which can no longer be broken down either in fast rewind / forward, and that sometimes is a slight flicker ....
I went ahead and carried by the wave of his time, however, has lagged, stuck at the point where it arrived at its terminus: for him there has been no growth or psycho-somatic or aging further or other layers of flavors in addition to the already known and what came out in my digging removed.
The inescapable reality is that, today, I'm older than my father.
perhaps, is his living image.
am still surprised to find that his old acquaintance, now anzianissimi, have a start of surprise when I meet, as if they saw before him the ghost of my father, youngest of them a quarter of a century.
"looks more and more to your father" , say ...
I have come to terms with death.
A death ethereal and suspended her.
Terrified by the ghost of death feared for my mother, first as had been anticipated for him, then simply to aging and wear is for the inexorable advance of age.
Now my mother is gone.
you, going away, forced me to face my ghosts of death in her life, was for me an indescribable suffering to go to any funeral, sometimes on the edge of sgarbataggine and lack of respect of friends and relatives.
But I could not: it was an intolerable burden, while waiting inellutabile the death of my mother, sooner or later.
Now, with his eclipse I have found - perhaps - pietas eg RME himself and for others.
I can compare them with greater confidence with the representation of death and perhaps even death.
But I know now that if my mother lived with strength and determination is absolute since almost 92 years, this might be my next goal, if I can resist ...
So now I have another turning point to be achieved: 31 more years from now, which leads me to be even further away from my father, stuck in the moment of his arrest, will continue to be for me a young man of 54 years, vigorous and full of plans.
Then after that there will be other extensions: if it was to arrive to overcome the age of my mother, I will be close to my last stop and then from now presses the need to initiate a reflection on the meaning of last things ...
How strange is life ...
I just hope that one day my son will be my living image, as I have been for my father.
I think I have many more years to live, once past the obstacle of 54 years.
Before arriving at that age, I often wondered about my future and wondered if - in terms of age - I survived my father.
I told myself that if I lived more than 54 years that were granted to him I would have lived much longer.
always thought patterns are organized acts to deceive ourselves: my father used to say that he would live long, starting from the fact that both his parents were from long-lived families.
Then, despite his optimistic forecast was betrayed by a fate that the waiting at the gate.
Elsewhere, had been written otherwise.
So, I took to think this would have been weird for me to survive him, meaning to pass the halfway point of 54 years.
With apprehension, I turned off my 54 candles and nothing happened.
The sands of time for me to continue to flow.
What I lived for many still, despite everything, I still think so today.
Perhaps, more peaceful, even now after the camp for more than a quarter of a century longer than him, I realize with unease and regret that my father are left behind me in the sense that he is now younger than me by almost thirty years.
Its representation - in my mind - is stuck at that point as the frame of a film still image, which can no longer be broken down either in fast rewind / forward, and that sometimes is a slight flicker ....
I went ahead and carried by the wave of his time, however, has lagged, stuck at the point where it arrived at its terminus: for him there has been no growth or psycho-somatic or aging further or other layers of flavors in addition to the already known and what came out in my digging removed.
The inescapable reality is that, today, I'm older than my father.
perhaps, is his living image.
am still surprised to find that his old acquaintance, now anzianissimi, have a start of surprise when I meet, as if they saw before him the ghost of my father, youngest of them a quarter of a century.
"looks more and more to your father" , say ...
I have come to terms with death.
A death ethereal and suspended her.
Terrified by the ghost of death feared for my mother, first as had been anticipated for him, then simply to aging and wear is for the inexorable advance of age.
Now my mother is gone.
you, going away, forced me to face my ghosts of death in her life, was for me an indescribable suffering to go to any funeral, sometimes on the edge of sgarbataggine and lack of respect of friends and relatives.
But I could not: it was an intolerable burden, while waiting inellutabile the death of my mother, sooner or later.
Now, with his eclipse I have found - perhaps - pietas eg RME himself and for others.
I can compare them with greater confidence with the representation of death and perhaps even death.
But I know now that if my mother lived with strength and determination is absolute since almost 92 years, this might be my next goal, if I can resist ...
So now I have another turning point to be achieved: 31 more years from now, which leads me to be even further away from my father, stuck in the moment of his arrest, will continue to be for me a young man of 54 years, vigorous and full of plans.
Then after that there will be other extensions: if it was to arrive to overcome the age of my mother, I will be close to my last stop and then from now presses the need to initiate a reflection on the meaning of last things ...
How strange is life ...
I just hope that one day my son will be my living image, as I have been for my father.
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