A Lesson In Living
We have had some nasty weather lately that has brought down some tree limbs. I still have volumes to learn about how to properly do a Ponytail. My wife, the lovely and seriously Southpaw, Dawn, is still dealing with the discomfort and frustration of a broken left arm – and we’ve had two members of the church pass away.
This week is one we would just as soon forget, but life won’t let us do that.
You have to stand up and deal with it as it comes. You can deal with it well, or you can deal with it poorly, but you can’t pretend it isn’t there. It is what it is.
Some of the things that have made this week a bad one are little more than aggravating. My sad efforts at hair styling will quickly become irrelevant. The storms and tree limbs are just a minor irritation. Dawn’s broken arm and the pain and frustration will pass.
The friends who have passed away will remain in the hearts and memories of those still here.
Some days I think that Life moves along like a river – at times calm, and at other times roiling over rocky stretches that seem endless. Those are the times that make us fearful and truly test our skills.
When there are weeks like this one I tend to pull into myself and find it difficult to be jovial and witty. Part of that, I’m sure, is because Life is holding up a mirror that reflects reminders of my own mortality. I see all of the gray hairs and the slump in my step that labors to carry the weight of 70 years.
When your peers start dying it is a wake-up call. “Don’t waste time. Do those things you’ve always longed to do. Hold your dear ones closer. Let the things that bother you drift away. Accept that the regrets in your life are just that and can’t be undone.”
It’s not easy watching someone die. There can be no more personal a moment. It happens and then it is gone, never to be repeated – only remembered.
There was no way that I could not watch.
For the family it was a watershed moment in their lives. For me, an outsider, it was a moment in time that I will never forget. I don’t want to forget it. It was a lesson in living.
I’ve picked up the fallen tree limbs. I’ve made more attempts to help Dawn with the Ponytail. I’ve said goodbye to the friends who have gone on. That’s all I can do – until next time – and there will be a next time. It may be tomorrow. It may be next year.
Until then I’m gonna “Keep on truckin’.” (If you are under 50 – look it up.)
I will try to laugh, but not be afraid to cry. I will hold my family close, but not smother them. I will get up, have coffee, complain about my aches and pains, tell my wife how much I love her, watch a baseball game, and, just maybe, have a little ice cream.