1:12 p.m. - 2007-10-04
the difficulty from death
Perhaps next week, I'll be able to make the past day and a half into a grand tale. It certainly has elements: the only child and all her ex husbands, the grandchild that could only come to visitation because he couldn't miss school for the funeral, the great niece who sat herself on the front row for the graveside service right before the preacher started speaking....
But right now, I don't know which beginning to choose. So many places I could start from, but none I want to take. I'd like the world to slow down long enough for me to capture the reunion for letting go, but the world seems unwilling to oblige. This morning the girls arrived at the usual hour, and are on their typical screaming-in-shifts schedule. I get one quiet and out of my way, sit for thirty seconds and the next girl begins with the moaning and wailing and gnashing of teeth.
Tomorrow evening, I head to my 15 year college reunion. And the whirlwind continues, with not a moment easily accessible for me to pen my joys or griefs with life, the universe and everything. Life goes on at this pace I don't remember setting. But I am unwilling to ask for the pace to slow. My favorite coffee mug says "the difficulty in life is the choice"--one chooses one's regrets. Do I choose the regret of my breakneck no-time-for-sorrow pace, or do I choose the regret of not seeing old friends?
I have lessons in the downside of both choices. Grief ignored ferments like fine whiskey. Friendships untended evaporate into dusty memories.
I'm allergic to dust--my grief will keep a bit longer.
