What you do know is that my hair is grey and the clothes I’m wearing aren’t the newest. What you do know is that I can’t tie a tie anymore and because of my failing eyesight, its hard to get a good, clean shave or for my comb to find that part in my hair. What you do know is that I’m slow, I shuffle instead of stride, and I’m sorry that I get in the way sometimes. What you do know is that I repeat myself, especially when I try to tell my favorite stories about those that I loved a long time ago. What you do know is that my eighty-year-old hands tremble when I hold a coffee cup or pick up something I dropped.
But…What you don’t know is that I was once young and strong. What you don’t know is that my hands once fought against our country’s enemies, caressed my wife’s cheek and held my newborn son. What you don’t know is that my weary eyes have seen the Glory of God in 30,000 sunrises and my wrinkled skin has felt wind, rain, and the warmth of the sun on hot July days at the beach.
What you don’t know is that since I took my first breath, I experienced love, worked hard, raised a family, lost my friends, and have done my best to serve the God that created me. What you don’t know is that as I shuffle toward my last sunset on this side of eternity, all I really want is to be loved. A kind word. A visit. A phone call. A gentle touch. A prayer. Just a smile that let’s me know that I don’t have to take these final few steps alone. Now you know…
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