Let Me Be Perfectly Frank
I use humor as a defense shield, and sometimes it’s used to soften personal pain. Sometimes, it fails me when I need it most.
All too often it seems I’m facing things that people of my ‘seasoned’ status have had to deal with since time began.
I’m losing friends and family in timely and untimely fashion.
Last week I got the bad news about two of my friends.
Two, in the same week.
One is a doppleganger for Si Robertson, loves Harleys, Mark Martin, and even though he’s nicknamed “Bear” it doesn’t take long to figure out his first name should have been ‘Teddy’.
He has little time left, as cancer ravages his body.
The other is a funny character; he has battled cancer for years and is now facing a challenge for which there doesn’t seem to be the proper weapon. It’s in his brain.
He, too, has little time.
I’m a carpe diem kind of person, have been known to break into song at the speaker for the drive-in at McDonald’s – ordering a Big Mac or Happy Meal to the tune of ‘God Bless America’, or whatever the name of that “It’s peanut-buttah-jelly time!” song is.
I over-tip – by a LOT.
I open doors, carry groceries, reach things out of reach for people shorter than me <<< granted that one does not happen very often, since I’m only a little over five feet tall myself.
I sit on our picnic table in the yard and am mesmerized by the birds visiting the feeder, the way the lake looks like it’s covered in diamonds as the sun dances across its surface, and the industriousness of a single ant.
I make up fanciful stories for my grandchildren, about fairies mostly, and straight-faced tell them it’s all true.
I delight in frogs.
Hummingbirds are magical to me.
I squee over puppies, kittens, and the pair of cardinals that have decided to nest in the plant that hangs right outside my window.
I love the smells of this Earth.
I love the sounds of the lake when we are in a quiet cove.
Ducks make me smile.
Despite repeated failure, I am convinced I can have a vegetable garden….in Texas…in the summer.
A single tomato, from my very own plant, sent me dancing across the back yard.
It is so important, to me, to you, to all of us, that we really live in the world while we are here. And, if like me you believe that our death brings eternal life and beauty beyond our ability to describe, then this mortal coil is just a temporary home. A pit stop, if you will.
Still, loss is hard for humans. Even knowing my friends are going where they cannot hurt any more doesn’t help much.
It just makes me want to stop and really experience every moment, to hold it, touch it, feel it and commit it to memory so that when the day comes that I face the inevitable I can do it knowing that to that precise moment in time I really lived.