I think a lot. All the time. My brain doesn’t turn off. I think about life. I think about death. I think about my deceased husband and my kids and me and what will happen tomorrow. I contemplate the ever-changing nature of life, and what that meant for me yesterday, what it means for me today and tomorrow and forever.
The following poem was recently shared with me. It completely describes my husband. A Black Sheep. Not the person everyone “gets.” I fell in love with him for his brains and his uniqueness. I didn’t marry him because he was just another one of the usual sheep in society.
Here’s an excerpt of the poem:
The Black Sheep
By, Karen Finley
Sometimes, some sheep are chosen to be sick
to finally have average, flat, boring
people say I love you.
Sometimes, Black Sheep are chosen to be sick
so families can finally come together
and say I love you.
Sometimes, some Black Sheep are chosen to die
so loved ones, families, countries
and cultures
can finally say
Your life was worth living !
Your life meant something to me !
I loved you all along !
Black Sheep’s destinies are not in
necessarily having families,
having prescribed existences –
like the American Dream.
Black Sheep destinies are to give
meaning in life – to be angels,
to be conscience, to be nightmares
to be actors in dreams.”
**The full poem is here
Teresa Shimogawa 