Perspective...

Gee....I notice that it’s been quite a while since posting a whine or even a pseudo-serious expression of sentimentality and reflection. When I look back over the last several months, it occurs to me that life hasn’t felt particularly funny. With a backdrop of managing life through bothersome physical ailments and recurring worries about the repercussions of both life and death, there have been losses of various sizes that tend to give perspective on that backdrop....that life is as it is and that all that weighs on me is nothing more than the consequence of the gift of my life itself. It’s that whole yin-yang thing. I can only write my whine because I am alive...and having just enjoyed a hot breakfast of eggs which I can share with my wonderful dogs.

Oh, there’s always money stuff, things to do, piles to sort, attic and garage to purge, cold weather fatigue, etc. etc. More importantly are worries about my dogs’ health, expensive house projects on the horizon, and the annoyances of short-term relationships that end with the disappointing revelations that some people just aren’t who they claim to be. There is the end of a long-standing connection with a professional organization that has proven to be nothing more than an internet date with someone who posted ten year-old photos. It’s the whole illusion thing I wrote about earlier ...there one moment, gone the next. These endings can be dealt with my slowly and painfully letting go. 

But life does stand still when I experience the deaths of two friends in just over a week’s time. Both of these passings were pretty much expected but, as you know, they still always come as a shock. These humans, with whom I talked and laughed and walked and ate and felt! have disappeared from the face of the earth. It always seems so surreal. When my father died, I could only get an evening flight, so I went to work at Salem Hospital as usual. My boss said “What are you doing here?!?” I just said “Where else should I be?” When she asked how I was doing, the first thought that came to mind was, “I keep wondering where he is.” That feeling after someone you know dies is, for me, the most revealing evidence that there has to be something after life. There is an essence that cannot possibly die with the body. I know it. To best understand what I mean, find and read Wordsworth’s “Ode on Intimations of Immortality.” While I am a Christian, this poem best captures my beliefs about life and death. 

I do ramble and digress. All I can say is that...and this could sound trite...losing these friends does make my life and it’s travails of various sizes seem unimportant and minor compared to what these friends went through on their journeys to another land and what their closer loved ones must endure with even bigger, gaping holes in their lives. And I can say that I do and will miss them both.

In short....Sandy....a dog-owner and walking friend. We told stories, we laughed at our dogs, we played tennis, we shared dinner, we talked life. I walked with him a few short months ago before his health began to decline. He was a smart, caring, interesting man and I know that many stories about Sandy and his life will live on with his family and friends. And just last week, the world lost Jeanne...my old friend Anne’s partner of over 24 years. Denied the opportunity for so many years, they had planned to marry later this year. Jeanne knitted me a scarf and an afghan. On my several visits to their beautiful home in North Carolina, Anne and Jeanne treated me like family. I loved Jeanne’s cynical, sardonic wit...much like my own. I remember lying on their floor snipping hair knots from one of their cats’ fur. I remember Jeanne leaving after dinner to get a McDonald’s coffee because “it’s just better.” (Having a cigarette, Jeanne? We’ll never know!)

Let’s just face it. With all the fluffy, reassuring verbiage, it’s just awful. It’s terrible. I walk through my day right now knowing they’re gone. As with the losses of my parents and all my wonderful dogs, there’s a hole in the universe without them. My life...getting to work, walking my dogs, cleaning my kitchen, making my risotto, ironing my sheets (NOT!)...I get to do these things and they don’t. I’m sorry, Sandy and Jeanne, I truly am. Deeply. But know that we loved you and you made an impact on people and the world that will not be forgotten.

Now...I have to go deal with finding socks to match my sweater. Oh my oh my.