I have never been one for morbid sensibilities. I don’t dwell in sadness, nor do I dabble in unwholesome thoughts. I am not gloomy.
Early this morning, before the sun was up, cancer consumed the life of a friend’s father. I had time last night to hold her and sway a bit in a hug that didn’t want to end. She was moving quickly towards the silences that would come with her father’s death, but we were taking a few more minutes to talk about things that had nothing to do with the tasks at hand. Several good laughs, a few inappropriate comments, a touch of bad behavior and moments of quiet in an overly-bright waiting room.
I have small town ways about me. They have to have come from the branches above me in my family tree, as I was not raised in a small town. One of those “ways” is that I stop for funeral processions. I pull over. No matter what. When they are coming toward me and when they are on my tail. I take these moments for contemplation about the people I have lost in my life. I remember myself in dark and quiet limos. I remember deep sadness and overwhelming relief. I give these moments time, because it’s what I have to give. Time. What can my hurry possibly be that I can’t stop to honor a family in pain? It’s minutes, really. Blinks of an eye.
So, this morning, I took a moment and spent time looking for pictures of my father. He is living with cancer and doing a bang-up job at it. It’s hard, and it will be his forever. My friend’s father has just ended a very short dance with a wicked disease.
I ache for my friend. I can never feel her pain, but, through the power of transference, I can weep for her loss and be there when the smiles return.
“Hold ’em tight,” I said to myself and others this morning. “Time is fleeting.”
p.s. Here are photos of my Dad and members of my family over the past year. Some of these I have used in previous blogs, and some I have not.
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Thank you, Sloane. Sweetly remembering my dad who died 12 years ago with gall bladder cancer.
I am surrounded by amazing, strong, thoughtful and insightful people. I would have it no other way.
this is a good one.
i was incredibly touched last week in my town. a man died who had long been a part of the community here and part of that was the volunteer fire department. all of the firemen here in town (they are all volunteers) dressed in their dress uniforms and they drove through town in the fire trucks with his casket atop the ladder truck, before going to the church. they honored him and made me very proud to live in my town….and that we still do things the old fashioned way. it also made me stand up straight when they drove by and thank those who volunteer.