The Twists in Our Live
I think there are times in all of our lives when we are forced to look back and reflect on the things that we've done, the things that have been done to us and the things that have happened without any one's conscious effort to make them so. I know that I've personally had several of these run-ins with personal reflection and though I can't say that I was any worse for the wear, those specific periods in my life could never be described as entirely pleasant. Many of them were down right awful and in most cases painful to experience.
I'm not going to be naive, either, or even self-centered and say that my own brushes with self contemplation bettered me. In truth I don't know that they did. I wish I could be sure, I wish I could say that from the stand point I'm at now, everything I've done to this stage in my life has made me a better person, or a more balanced, health and happy individual. But I can't.
There are still days when I wonder why one of my very close friends died while we were in high school. Many of those days are accompanied by thoughts of whether there was anything I could have done to change the outcome of events that did occur.
There are times when I still think about my Grandma Edith and how sudden and unexpected her death seemed to me. I know that after suffering one major heart attack, she was in great pain and any life she might have gone on to lead would likely have been very difficult, so her second major heart attack-which claimed her life-was really a blessing. I know these things and yet I still berate myself for not going to visit her just one last time. I almost did, in fact I actually drove to the hospital and when I couldn't find a parking spot quickly I decided not to stop. Looking back, it doesn't only hurt that I missed that chance, but I know it was unfair to her.
When Grandpa died a couple years after my Grandmother, I did what I could there to make sure I wouldn't have those doubts, those misgivings later on. And I don't. If there is one death in my life that I don't feel a lot of pain over, it's my Grandpa Gerry's. He had led a long, full and happy life and he died with all his children and nearly all of his grandchildren surrounding him. In the two weeks that he spent at the hospital before he passed away I can guarantee that I was there everyday. Some times all I did was sit there and read, but I was there and I like to think that it made him happy. I know it eased my own soul, just being there.
It's remarkable, to me, and somewhat apropos, that one year to the day of Grandpa dying, my daughter was born. I think too that Zona's birth may be part of why I'm not nearly as upset over Grandpa's death as I have been over Grandma's or Aaron's. To me it sort of showed that yes, people die and we're not always prepared to let them go, but soon enough some one else comes into your life to fill that void and you can feel a measure of peace to know that there's some sort of plan in it all. It's taken me a long time to get to that point and perhaps, on bad days, I still fight the idea but deep inside it's a conclusion that I have to believe in.
I've always been a big believer in fate. I've also always believed in the after life. So believing that there's some kind of plan governing all of our lives and that when we do die we'll go on to something else, something better, it makes those losses more bearable. After all, the ones we love and lose are never really gone from us. Not unless we forget them.
So now I look back on those events, and others too, and wonder about my life. As I'm sure you've noticed, these reflections tend to happen when someone close to me has died. Or when someone who becomes close to me is born. If only my current state of reflection could be attributed to the latter.
My Uncle is in the hospital. He was diagnosed with Cancer several months ago and though he did go through some treatment, he's terminal and it's only a matter of time. I can't say that I was ever particularly close with that Uncle but the situation is effecting me differently than I had expected it to. I suppose there's a part of my soul that is already grieving for the loss. For my Uncle's life. For the hearts of his children and his grandson. For my father's pain, and for their sister's grief. It hurts me to think that so many people are going to be hurt by his death and yet I can not dredge up the individual pain that I expected to find from having to live through another person that I loves' death. For some reason in this case, all I can personally feel is peace.
I do not know if it's because I've read and studied enough about the final stages of a cancer patients life that I can be glad that the end is coming for him and that he'll finally have an escape from the the agony that I imagine he is experiencing. I don't want to think that I'm not pained at his passing because he means less to me, because in my mind family is family whether you see them once a year or everyday. Obviously I'm not happy that he's dying, but knowing that he is, doesn't cause that same searing pain that has occurred in the past. Am I becoming jaded? Heartless? Have I truly become so entrenched in my own life that the pain of others doesn't bother me, or have I finally found that maturity that you see often in people who experience death repeatedly? I don't know and in some ways that scares me.
When he actually passes away, I expect that what I do feel will likely compound and I'll find the pain I expect for now, I'll take what peace I can find and try to share it with those who need it most. After all, we're all family.
I'm not going to be naive, either, or even self-centered and say that my own brushes with self contemplation bettered me. In truth I don't know that they did. I wish I could be sure, I wish I could say that from the stand point I'm at now, everything I've done to this stage in my life has made me a better person, or a more balanced, health and happy individual. But I can't.
There are still days when I wonder why one of my very close friends died while we were in high school. Many of those days are accompanied by thoughts of whether there was anything I could have done to change the outcome of events that did occur.
There are times when I still think about my Grandma Edith and how sudden and unexpected her death seemed to me. I know that after suffering one major heart attack, she was in great pain and any life she might have gone on to lead would likely have been very difficult, so her second major heart attack-which claimed her life-was really a blessing. I know these things and yet I still berate myself for not going to visit her just one last time. I almost did, in fact I actually drove to the hospital and when I couldn't find a parking spot quickly I decided not to stop. Looking back, it doesn't only hurt that I missed that chance, but I know it was unfair to her.
When Grandpa died a couple years after my Grandmother, I did what I could there to make sure I wouldn't have those doubts, those misgivings later on. And I don't. If there is one death in my life that I don't feel a lot of pain over, it's my Grandpa Gerry's. He had led a long, full and happy life and he died with all his children and nearly all of his grandchildren surrounding him. In the two weeks that he spent at the hospital before he passed away I can guarantee that I was there everyday. Some times all I did was sit there and read, but I was there and I like to think that it made him happy. I know it eased my own soul, just being there.
It's remarkable, to me, and somewhat apropos, that one year to the day of Grandpa dying, my daughter was born. I think too that Zona's birth may be part of why I'm not nearly as upset over Grandpa's death as I have been over Grandma's or Aaron's. To me it sort of showed that yes, people die and we're not always prepared to let them go, but soon enough some one else comes into your life to fill that void and you can feel a measure of peace to know that there's some sort of plan in it all. It's taken me a long time to get to that point and perhaps, on bad days, I still fight the idea but deep inside it's a conclusion that I have to believe in.
I've always been a big believer in fate. I've also always believed in the after life. So believing that there's some kind of plan governing all of our lives and that when we do die we'll go on to something else, something better, it makes those losses more bearable. After all, the ones we love and lose are never really gone from us. Not unless we forget them.
So now I look back on those events, and others too, and wonder about my life. As I'm sure you've noticed, these reflections tend to happen when someone close to me has died. Or when someone who becomes close to me is born. If only my current state of reflection could be attributed to the latter.
My Uncle is in the hospital. He was diagnosed with Cancer several months ago and though he did go through some treatment, he's terminal and it's only a matter of time. I can't say that I was ever particularly close with that Uncle but the situation is effecting me differently than I had expected it to. I suppose there's a part of my soul that is already grieving for the loss. For my Uncle's life. For the hearts of his children and his grandson. For my father's pain, and for their sister's grief. It hurts me to think that so many people are going to be hurt by his death and yet I can not dredge up the individual pain that I expected to find from having to live through another person that I loves' death. For some reason in this case, all I can personally feel is peace.
I do not know if it's because I've read and studied enough about the final stages of a cancer patients life that I can be glad that the end is coming for him and that he'll finally have an escape from the the agony that I imagine he is experiencing. I don't want to think that I'm not pained at his passing because he means less to me, because in my mind family is family whether you see them once a year or everyday. Obviously I'm not happy that he's dying, but knowing that he is, doesn't cause that same searing pain that has occurred in the past. Am I becoming jaded? Heartless? Have I truly become so entrenched in my own life that the pain of others doesn't bother me, or have I finally found that maturity that you see often in people who experience death repeatedly? I don't know and in some ways that scares me.
When he actually passes away, I expect that what I do feel will likely compound and I'll find the pain I expect for now, I'll take what peace I can find and try to share it with those who need it most. After all, we're all family.
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