knock-out blow. get up. fight on. pounded in the ribs. fight on. knock your nose out of shape. fight on. keep on your feet. fight on.
i’ve watched my grandfather fight on for years. he never faltered, not when he was made dependent on an air machine, not when he was unable to get out of bed long enough to take care of himself. at every point, all he ever did was fight on. there may be only so many fights in each of us, but there is no knowing what that number may be. the question is at what point do you say enough is enough ? as long as you can hear the cheering in your head ? as long as you know that there has been at least some milestones that you have managed to see ?
it was he who was my first role model. it is these people one most wants to make proud. it is these people who form our “pulse”. it is a question i often ask myself. when someone passes on, how often do they regret something ? or do they, in the end, know that they have fought until that very end ? i hope my thatha knew that he had done more than most people could ever hope for. in a little under a century, he formed an existence outside a small town; instigated siblings, sons and daughters to the heights they eventually reached, and watched them flourish and succeed.
to me some things are beyond life and beyond anything else that we can imagine. some things form the pulse of everything we have ever known, we just never realize it.
or even accept it.
Provoked well beyond these words by ‘Million Dollar Baby’
