A thousand times to think

A few pounds of ash were all we got. That was the day that I had realized a few pounds of ash is what I will become someday. Being passed down to one of my children as nothing but dust and bits of bone that weren’t cremated enough. I wondered if this cycle would continue on, as it had happened to my father. I contemplate the idea quite often, of not being able to be with my children in time. Even though that choice crept away from me faster than I could afford to find my way back into their lives, without them growing up too much and eventually becoming as frustrated as I was when I was growing up back growing up back the without parents. My greatest fear had suddenly become that one day as I was that I would suddenly pass away as I am on my way to see them. As it had happened to my father. Apparently, he and his father were on bad terms. I use to contemplate whether that had anything to do with my mother being a Native American and he and his family being full blood western Europeans.