I am fascinated with forgotten things. Things that were carefully planned, drawn and loved long ago. The workers showed up day by day making a living to survive by their families to this work site. They bled all over the skeleton of this future work of art, but even further future wasteland of debris. They went home filthy with sweat and dirt. Their hands were cut and calloused and dry. One day they completed the project. Stopped to look at this beautiful piece of history, and went on to the next one. Now here it is. You will only find homeless and addicts there. But before it was a venue for traveling acts, theater, film, and any other activity that you can think of. People laughed and cried in these buildings, they got married and had children here. It's halls were littered with patrons and employees alive, all there for whatever reason. Now the bricks are falling off of it. The stages have gaping holes. The seats are shredded and stained. It used to be someones favorite place to go, now it is a wasteland.
I don't know why this makes me so sad. It always has. I even got a ticket for trespassing one of these places once, just to soak in the history and imagine the torn curtains once again vibrant and striking with color.
I think this is also my biggest fear of death. I don't want to be dilapidated. I don't want to turn from a vibrant person who feels so strongly into something that once was but now has been forgotten. Even though I know I will still exist and that I will be in such beauty with such people, I still get sad to think that I didn't leave a lasting impression. I didn't do something that won't be forgotten. But I won't. I will raise my children to love Christ and be a difference to others. I will work with these teenagers and parishioners to fill their lives with love, but one day, hopefully generations later, all memory and signs of my existence will be gone from here. This shouldn't make me sad, but it does. I tell myself the same things that everyone else do about it. I am in Heaven when I die, why do I care?
I just do.
Sing.
Migrate.
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