Last night while I was lying awake in bed I was doing the math. In the last two months, six people that I have known have died. Two people that I know have had brain surgery, one of those is still in the hospital recovering, and she lost her son in a logging accident this week (one of the six and a former playmate of my own kids'). The other one who had brain surgery is the son of a friend of mine. They will be meeting with an oncologist in a few days. Another friend's husband is in the hospital recovering from the stroke he had the day after his quadruple bypass. He's relearning how to walk and talk and eat and breathe.
Of the six who died, three were due to heart ailments, one from breast cancer, and two from tragic accidents. Three of them were my age, one was my son's age, and two were my dad's age.
This seems quite remarkable to me. Has there been this much catastrophe in my circle of friends and acquaintances before, and I just haven't noticed? I don't think so. I think this is really odd, and it has me a bit shell-shocked. I'm not wallowing, really I'm not, but I am experiencing some post traumatic stress. I'm hyper-sensitive in my body. Every twinge or pain catches my full attention and has me wondering if something serious is beginning. I'm watching my husband and my kids more closely, and when I'm not being overly cautious and sensitive I'm numbing myself and trying to just not think by playing stupid games on the computer and sleeping as much as I can.
My mind has turned to spiritual things, to end of life things, to big
weighty things, and I've been battling a lot of negative thinking. I'm hoping and sensing that change is in the air. The weather has improved, we have our pool set up and the deck cleaned off. We'll be attending a couple of weddings in the next two months, and I'm looking forward to a big group camping trip with friends. I don't know what purpose this season of painful change has served for all of us, but I sense it has served a purpose. However, I'm ready for some lightness and joy, and I'm not going to take a moment of it for granted.