Dearly Almost Departed

 Time spills out like paint across a canvas in rich and muddied colors but we never know how much canvas we are given, do we?  Live life to the fullest, live life to the richest, die well with no regrets.  Cavalier words in a cavalier world.  But a grain of truth still resonates within these almost insensitive words. 

I don’t live life to the fullest.  Do you?  Do any of us?  Perhaps a small percentage, maybe.  Perhaps my life is not lived to its fullest but it still feels pretty busy.  My husband recently said so many people fill up their time with thin things but I know it isn’t thin things my life is full of – it’s full of responsibilities that aren’t totally my own. 

I wonder what life I would have if I had the selfish life where all I had to do was go bungee jump into all my hopes and desires, all my aspirations, but I am no island.  I am a candlestick maker.  And I remain connected to many souls.  They both buoy me and weigh me down like I’m sure that I both buoy and weigh. 

So what is living life to its fullest?  What is its definition?  Is it the people we touch?  Is it the goals we achieve?  Is it how people remember us when we die? 

I sit here on a deathwatch and ponder a life that could have been close to mine, perhaps should have been close to mine, but never was.  A life I heard about in snippets and secrets and I don’t know what I feel except a gentle sadness for what will never be known. 

Written on Tuesday, January 26, 2010.  I had just been told that my grandmother, my mother’s biological mother, has gone downhill quickly.  Instead of the miraculous recovery after 10 days in a coma, respirators and feeding tubes, coming to, consciousness and no brain damage, she has a matter of days at most. 

I discovered on Wednesday morning that she didn’t even live out the night.  It was 12:30 am Tuesday night/Wednesday morning when she left the world.  The funeral was Saturday, January 30, 2010, the coldest day so far this winter.  Standing at the gravesite when its 2 degrees is strangely appropriate.  I wonder now was it possible for tears to freeze?   At the time, I only wondered if my feet would.

I did get to meet family for the first time and reconnect with others I hadn’t seen in some time.  Its been a long weekend.  Between this and other stress which is my life, I’m out of sorts today.  I wrote this (below) earlier today.

There’s a fang laden beast dwelling about three inches deep on the left side of my chest and no good intentions seem to have any affect of purging him.  I want to pull my Pollyanna mask back on but it seems to be missing and my fingers aren’t cooperating because they are balled up into fists.  I don’t know if I want to don on hard skin and go charging out into battle.  The hit, either giving or receiving, would almost be a relief.  Or do I want to hibernate into the furthest reaches.  So, like a lumbering bear I vacillate at the entrance of the cave, neither coming or going, attacking or retreating.  Only one thing is certain.  I cannot escape. 

Ah, the Pollyanna mask…a little torn, a little worn.  Tomorrow is another day.