Living Alone

Here is your Monday STORY on: LOVE: Whilst LOVE is a beautiful component of life it also can be a hindrance. When a close friend passes away that immediate love is lost and a subsequent depression can set in if we allow it. The whole subject of death is a vast area for discussion, but today we look at one way we can overcome this feeling of depression. The simple answer is to love. We need to both love the memory of the person who has passed away and we need to offer the intensity of love we had to other people. This of course is easy to say but not so easy to do. Having taken the subject to an extreme we must also realise that any form of sadness or depression can be overcome with love. If we can focus onto another, the intensity of which we know we can do, then the sense and mood will change. You cannot remain sad for long when you are offering love. It would be true to say, following those two paragraphs, that to encourage happiness you must also encourage love. Today's story illustrates a family's need to see when love will bring another family out from sadness. THE BIG RED BOX February came and as usual, depression set in. With holidays behind her, she could no longer look forward to the parade of friends and relatives that helped her chase away the loneliness. The gloomy, grey mornings only made it worse. She hated Februarys. She remembered how much she used to cherish Valentine's Day, the way he began a week ahead of time, with a different gift each day, building to a huge bouquet of flowers and some special, intimate present that seemed so well thought-out. He always surprised her somehow. She loved that about him. After Jim passed away, her life force seemed to seep out of her like a huge balloon with a slow leak, a little more each day. Deflated, she struggled to get up, pull herself together and function with any sense of normalcy. "Maybe today will be better, " she tried to convince herself. The box shocked her. She knew she hadn't ordered anything because she couldn't afford it. When she first saw the UPS man at her door half hidden by an enormous cardboard thing, she thought for sure that he had made a mistake. "Sign here, " the man said. "Where would you like me to put this?" Flustered, she pointed to the chair in the hallway, the one where Jim always dropped his coat. She stood in the foyer staring at the box, afraid to touch it. No return address, no indication of where it came from. "Should I open it?" she questioned, uncertain and timid. "Why am I acting so ridiculous?" she fussed at herself. She walked to the kitchen, picked up a knife and returned, cut the tape that held the package together and lifted the flaps. Underneath the white Styrofoam peanuts, she could see a vivid red. "What's that?" she wondered and began to dig. Despite herself, she could feel her adrenalin surge. She let the peanuts fall to the ground. There, inside the box, sat another one, a bright cherry colour, with a pink bow that held a single silk rose. Her heartbeat quickened and her face flushed. She reached in and removed the mystery, set it on the neighbouring table. "Who sent this? What is it?" Suddenly, she chuckled. She saw her own smile in the mirror above the counter and barely recognized it. It had been so long. Her excitement took over. She ripped off the ribbon, kept the rose in one hand and pulled off the top. A purple boa wrapped around matching slippers rested on top of a satiny camisole of the same colour. "My favourite!" she squealed. She nestled the boa around her neck and picked up the card with a huge heart on the front. With much trepidation, she opened it and felt her eyes mist. She cried her way through the words. "Mom, I love you so much. Will you be my Valentine? Jim, Jnr." Who might you reach out to next Valentine's Day who might otherwise be alone? Could you find it within yourself to do it? Thanks for your heart. (Ridgely Goldsborough) QUOTE: "Love is a union with somebody, or something, outside oneself, under the condition of retaining the separateness and integrity of one's self. (Erich Fromm)

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Living Alone

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