I Wanted to Write Something Meaningful

I wanted to write something meaningful today. I thought of all the things I could have said, but nothing seemed to make sense except for "family."

Do you have family?

Do you love and care for your family?

See, for the past 15  years, I have witnessed something that could be stated as "neglect" or "rejection" of family members. You can choose your friends but you cannot choose your family. I have also heard of that cliche for years now- but nothing hurts as seeing someone neglect his family all at the illusion of having made it. You might have all the money you can have but without family support- that undying support, then it's all meaningless! So, for all these years there's a lot more that I have witnessed which calls to mind a story I once thought of writing. Once upon a time in a far away (but not so far as the North Pole) land there lived a boy named Seamus. He was full of joy and the last of five siblings. Their family lived in abject poverty and to make ends meet he was sent to another land- to herd cattle. Seamus left home hoping to make things better for his mother. His father had long gone and what was left of him was a cross firmly rooted to the ground that covered him up. Seamus was taken by a beautiful lady, into the city and taken to school. He was smart and passed his exams and later on completed his degree.

Seamus got a job, a social status, and a beautiful girlfriend. He used his money on clothes and any whims his girlfriend demanded. He was happy and content. His mother wept for him every night. His mother wondered what became of his son- and who would inherit the land when she too joined her husband. In fifteen years Seamus only saw his Mother for 48 hours- he saw her without a treat- not even a gift for the woman who sacrificed her all to feed her when there was a famine.

And because of this she died of a broken heart.

She died crying out for her Son, to have even called her to say "I LOVE YOU MOM."

Now, Seamus wonders the earth- he simply looks for those who do not remember their family or let them know they care and he weeps at their doors at night. He weeps because he misses his Mother. He weeps because since he did not know how to love and care for her, things do not seem to work with women. His wife and children are history- for he never paid attention.

If, you've finished reading this- "it was just a story." I love stories. I love poems. I love telling and I love listening, because someone always has a story. Appreciate your family, for you have them.

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How can one change the world if one identifies oneself with everybody?