Over the past couple of months, this space has been generally reserved for my musings on spirituality, with only one side trip into frustration.
I’ve been relating to this space as a diary, or journal, but one that I willingly shared with any who wished to read. I’ve tried to open my soul to any who might be interested.
Today, that soul is darkened, saddened. I originally decided not to post today because of my inner gloom… But what good is a journal if it’s not a reflection of who I am. Hard to open a window to my soul and then shutter it.
Gloom. Darkness. Despair. Well, gloom and darkness, anyhow. I’m not yet feeling the despair. Who knows? That may come.
This week started off well enough. In fact through yesterday evening, it was progressing along quite nicely. Then we hit the wall.
Well, let me back up just a little. This isn’t quite true. The air got turbulent Wednesday afternoon. Kind of like a medium sized pothole on an otherwise smooth road. My visit with my doctor went well enough, and I’m healthy enough, overall, no really bad news. However, he did leave me with the knowledge that if I continue to experience certain symptoms, I may have to have a relatively small surgical procedure on my heart.
This didn’t really bother me too much. It’s really nothing overly serious, and I’m relatively confident that my medicine will take care of things. But it did make me think a little.
Then, that wall of last night. I got home, and there was a phone message from mom, asking that I call, wanting to know what I’d learned at the doctor’s office the night before.
So, I called. Mom’s response wasn’t quite what I’d expected, a lot calmer than expected. She asked when she’d see me again, and I started to arrange our newly established “Tuesday Night Dinner”. She interrupted me and said “Well, I can’t keep this up any longer.”
She then proceeded to tell me about HER visit to the doctor on Wednesday. She’s been diagnosed with “Squamous Cell Carcinoma”. Upon reading up on this on the internet, I discover that it is an “aggressively malignant” form of skin cancer that can easily metastasize to inner organs and can be fatal. I also learned that it is relatively easy to treat.
Well, I was okay with this news. Sorry for my dad, whom I know is suffering from this news. Sorry for mom, because, along with her Alzheimer’s this is the last thing she needs to have to worry about. But, I felt calm, at peace, knowing that this, too, is in God’s hands.
Then, I got to work this morning. Shortly after arriving, and going through my office email, I checked my personal email.
My friend, David, is pastor of a church in Mexico. His partner, Alberto, who suffers from epilepsy, was admitted to the hospital in serious condition earlier this week. This morning’s emails informed me that this marvelous young man died yesterday from, presumably, complications from the pneumonia, which in turn was the result of the epilepsy.
And now, I’m feeling gloomy and in a rather dark mood. But, I don’t despair. I’m not mouthing platitudes (or, rather, typing them) I’m sincerely not feeling despair over either my mother’s cancer OR David’s loss of his partner. I do, however, feel remarkably sad. Sad for David. Sad for the loss of Alberto. Sad for my dad. Sad for Mom. Sad for me.
For me it’s not a matter of “Life isn’t fair,” as a very dear friend mentioned. Life ISN’T fair. That’s a fact of life. I don’t expect anything in life to be fair. I’d be shocked if it were! It’s really a matter of dawning awareness. Life isn’t only not fair, life is a terminal illness. In the death of a friend, the life threatening condition of my mother, I see my own impermanence. The end of the road is ahead of me. It might be around the corner, or it may be many miles yet. But it’s there, and for a fleeting moment, that realization has been crystallized in my consciousness.
Good start, lousy end to this week. And that’s the way of life.
On The Road II 