Today I went to a funeral for childhood friend's father that passed away at the unfortunate and early age of 48. On the way to my seat, I talked to the father of yet another childhood friend. The last time I saw him was at his son's funeral. Everyone is so grown up now. I remember when the wife of the deceased was pregnant with her youngest. She looked to be about 14 now. I thought about all the kids I used to babysit in this town. Went to one of their funerals as well, a few years back.
As I sat in the tiny, crowded chapel in the middle of our small desert town, I wondered about all these funerals. How many more would I attend before someone would attend my own? Does living in a small town mean that more people you've encountered, loved, or known along the way died or simply that you attend more of their funerals? Maybe the same amount of people that you intersect with die, but you just aren't as aware of it if you live in a big city or move around a lot. I'm not sure, it just seems like a lot of people in my world have been dying lately.
Yesterday was my birthday. The party is this evening. Today we mourned a death. Tonight we celebrate a life. I guess that why they call life a cycle based on the ebbs and flows; the ups and downs; and all that falls in between. The awareness of death tempers the joy of life. And, I suppose, conversely, that those moments of beauty, fun, and mystery give us something to cling to when we're sombered and scared by death.
All I know right now is that the death part sucks.
So, to my friend that lost her father and to my friend that lost her husband today:
I'm so sorry...
Image Credit: http://i219.photobucket.com/albums/cc179/abigail47/cross.jpg
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