Ah, But They Were Very Good Years

When I was 5 years old everything was sugar and spice and everything nice.  Wrapped up in my parents love.  Not a care in the world.  Ah, but they were very good years.

When I was 10 it was endless summers floating into warm by the fire winters all wrapped around magical holidays.  Ah, but they were very good years.

When I was 16 I was learning what it was to be come a young lady.  Crushes to die for, heartaches that could be eased by mother's comforting words (and a dish of chocolate ice cream).  Ah, but they were very good years.

When I was 18 I learned about innocence lost and found, that childhood was left behind and a new journey about to begin.  Ah, but they were very good years.



When I was 21 life and the world were spread out before me, ready for me to discover all the secrets that they held.  Ah, but they were very good years.



When I was 25 I was fighting for my life.  Literally.  I looked death in the face and I survived.  It was a long battle.  A hard battle.  On me.  On my family.  There were a few times I was not suppose to make it.  But I did.  I survived cancer.  But in doing so I lost a big part of myself.  Of who I was in this battle.   Ah, but they were very good years.


When I was 31 I was beginning to figure out who I was again.  Where I fit in.  Ah, but they were very good years.  Ah, but they were very good years.




When I was 36 I was still figuring out why I survived.  I also was missing out on what everyone else had:  a home, husband, children.  I had to learn to live with the knowledge that this would never be a part of my life.
Ah, but they were very good years.

When I was 40 I was coming to terms with the notion that I would never marry.  Life was good.  Things were going well.  Ah, they were very good years.

When I was 44 I fell in love for the first time.  I got married.  I moved away.  I started a new life.  Scary but exciting.  Ah, they were very good years.

When I was 52 I fell in love for the second time in my life.  I also had my first real heartbreak. One I will never forget. And one heals with time (and chocolate ice cream). I also had the first major loss of my life.  My mother had recently passed.  Ah, but they were very good years.

When I was 53 two more devastating losses in my life.  My father passed away.  Then four months later my husband passed away.  Devastating year.  Ah, but they were very good years.

Now I am 54, the holidays are upon us.  I will be alone this Christmas.  It will be hard.  I do not look forward to having two days off (week-ends) for it the silence is deafening.  So I am really not looking forward to 4 days off.  But I will get through.  Just as I have in the past.  Just as I will in the future.
And as I reflect back on my life, I can only say, with tear filled eyes, but a joyful heart.......Ah, But They Were Very Good Years.