The Waterpiller is the modern day equivalent of the sprinkler, specifically designed for naked backyard antics, so these little pink beings were squealing and giggling with delight as the cool droplets splashed on their skin and made their nerve endings dance.
I looked at them, playing and so carefree and I thought,
This is living.
This is the stuff childhood memories are made of and this pure joy is the epitome of life.
The following day a dear aunt, Tante Magriet, slipped quietly into the eternal sleep on the other side of the world.
She was a brilliant woman in life and in these last months the evil Dementia had taken her mind away and her spark had already left the building.
She had lived a full life, borne children, taught at University, inspired people and loved fiercely…..and then she was gone.
That is dying.
From the minute we are born we’re hurtling towards our mortality.
You are too.
All of us and our cats and dogs and chickens and plants…..we’re all dying.
It’s just a Lion King song. It’s just the Circle of Life.
I was giving it all some thought and I was totally at peace with it because it’s just natural. It’s unnatural to live to 200 and be full of Botox and vitamins.
1.We’re born tiny
2.We grow big and strong
3.We produce offspring
4.We shrink and shrivel
Like a plant. For we are just matter.
Like matter, we don’t matter (if you catch my drift). Not in the big picture.
Of course, we all know the natural order is that our grandparents die first and that gives us and idea of what it’s all about….and then in our middle age our parents die, and leave gaping holes but we’re ok with it, because ‘they had a good life’.
It’s the way it should be……of course, not everyone gets the memo.
I was relatively at peace with the way the scheme works and then I read about fellow blogger, Julie of The Progressive Parent.
Julie woke up a couple of days ago to find her 15 month old son had died in his sleep. Right next to her, in bed. He just didn’t wake up.
No apparent cause. No reason.
They think maybe SIDS but Patrick (they called him Pat Pat) was a little old at 15 months…..but as she says, it doesn’t really matter what it was because the end result is the same. Her Patrick is gone, and he will never curl into her breast and look into her eyes again.
I look back at my progression chart and I cannot make sense of this. This is not part of the scheme because Patrick was only at Step 1.
This is a monumental cosmic cock up.
It’s not supposed to work like that.
I’m sure Julie feels like……fuck, you know what? I have no idea ow Julie feels….because even my wildest imaginings probably don’t cut the expanse of pain.
All the words for grief and sorrow are so two dimensional in the face of such loss.
I am perforated by your absence, my sweet little love.
Her words made me run to my children and gather them into my arms and bury my nose in their hair. I hope that somehow I can impress upon their personal timeline the importance that they follow the progression chart as it should be…..for I don’t know if I could be a complete picture again if someone removed one of my pieces.
I’m back pondering the big questions today. What’s it all about? Or is it about anything? Are we just matter that comes and goes like stars?
Of course we are.
But we are stars with hearts, and hearts are so easily broken.
Do you think about death?
What got you through when you lost someone?
I Blog on Tuesdays with EssentiallyJess. Go see who else does.