A friend of mine lost her husband recently — he died rather suddenly while at home by himself.
I went to the Memorial Service at the church last week and it was a lovely celebration of the fellow’s life (think tie-dye and the 1960s) and a comfort to his wife and son. It was a blast for the congregation also — for sure it was definitely the first time that I EVER walked out of a church with a Grateful Dead song blasting from a CD player.
At the end of the evening I drove home by myself, cuddled up with the cats and fell into one of my sad, what’s-it-all-about moods.
Mostly I was thinking about the fragility of the human connections in our lives…the old “here today, gone tomorrow” thing.
People come and people go throughout our lives — they move or we outgrow them, their interests change or there’s a falling-out. Sometimes there is anger and other times there is sadness. Occasionally there is reconciliation but often there is no reconnection.
As I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized that’s just life — it’s neither good nor bad, it’s just the way it is.
It doesn’t mean I have to like it all the time though.
Life can be lonely sometimes. Lasting relationships can be elusive and all too often, friendships can be fleeting. Everyone has their own agenda nowadays.
And of course, you can’t argue with Death.
Transitions can be hard, especially when there’s an “inbetween time” when there is absolutely no clue as to what’s next.
Of course, my cats don’t mind the inbetween times because they get to have me around more. But they are always in the present moment, whereas my brain is constantly trying to spin out scenarios for the future.
So on the night after the memorial service, I morosely drifted into my “it sucks to be single” stuff and the “why doesn’t God want me to have a helpmate?” glop and “why do I have so very little family?” crap.
And yeh, “she travels the fastest who travels alone,” but I mean, like, COME ON.
And that’s just the way I was that night…my thoughts and feelings were neither good nor bad. It was what it was.
I pouted for a bit. And then after awhile I had some ice cream. And then the gloom disappeared.
©July 2011 by Phyllis J. Hanniver
(A note to any busybodies out there: I have sent a copy of this post to the individual mentioned in the first paragraph. There’s nothing here for you to forward.)