I woke up with the East Coast on my brain this morning. I had had dreams about my mother, and father. And when I opened up my eyes the light in the bedroom was all grey and hazy, like the early morning of a crisp fall day in New England. It was so quiet and peaceful in that moment. I trudged into the kitchen for some coffee and felt all of the years of high school and college and, well, life. I'm not quite sure what it is lately but the passage of time is suddenly staring at me dead on. I can't shake it.
I got a text from my dear friend last week letting me know that a man we had all known for years had had a stroke the night before. That he was in the hospital and going through some crazy procedures to make his brain stop swelling. And texts and emails that followed the next two days. That he was going to be okay. And then that he was not, that he was brain dead, that his 13 year old daughter was heading to the hospital to say goodbye to her father for one last time. I didn't know this man well. His passing should have hit me like most other passings do-a fleeting sadness, but numbness to it all, to all of this dying business. It didn't. It hit me hard. All of this life that we live, that we put so much stress into, that we create so much drama for, it is all, all of it, going to go away. We have no idea when. We have no idea how. But the end is inevitable. And it could happen in the middle of the night, in your bedroom, as you are sleeping alone, before you have the had the chance to tell all of those people how dear they have been to you, to look life in its face and tell it how much you loved living it, despite all of the sad moments and painful times. Before you could see one last sunset over the ocean after a day of lounging around the beach in Thailand. Before you could spend one last fall in New England cozied up in new sweaters wandering around towns with warm coffee in your hand. Before you could bear a child or buy a house or own a business. Over. Done.
The sadness has been lingering on since that day. I feel so much for his daughter, who is left to navigate this world without the guiding hand of her father. And I feel so much for him. Hope that he left this life feeling like he lived it exactly as he was meant to. And I feel so much for us who are still left wondering. Who are still left with life to live. I have moments of thinking that I would die a happy woman if now was my time. But then the life left in me positively screams NO! there is still so much to be done, so much I haven't seen.
via Country Living