The First Breath, followed by the Last Breath

I did stand in awe of all that was lost to me, those last moments.
A mother that did birth and love me, though her way was horrible in repair. A father that ran and denied me, though his life was truly his own. A small one that wonders if anyone sees him, loves him, will care for him? A pitiful family in tatters, though they saw only their single destructive and selfish path. Still, I learned, and I walked and talked, and I wanted the best and never the least. Myriad were forebearers and teachers, lost to time and darkness, and yet I could choose. In some cases, they were thrust at me, Thank God for these gifts of people! Myriad were my challenges, though all said I would lose. Many were the doomsayers, stating my life meant nothing. Still, were the few, the strong, the believers that hid behind the scenes and whispered, “You can be more! You can rise above!” Your path, through dirt, mud, or concrete, was it an easy one? Once laid, without a turn of the wheel? Nay, never, not even! All have to sweat, to hurt, to try and fail and die! All have to close an eye and sleep and hope tomorrow is better. The first breath, a struggle of life to come. The last breath, of life, fought and won. Between, the choices we make, the friends we meet, the people we love, our triumph. Friends, loves, life!