Friday, June 13, 2014
This past Wednesday evening I learned that my uncle Emil had
passed away. Emil was the
long-time husband of my father’s eldest sister, my Aunt Patsy. They had been married for over
sixty-three years. They lived
their entire lives in Arkansas. I
may be wrong about this but I do not believe that either of them ever set foot
outside the United States of America.
I do believe it safe to say that my Aunt Patsy exemplified the dutiful
wife. Emil was the focus of her
life.
When a person somehow connected to us dies we can easily be
reminded of our own mortality.
Death will take each one of us one day. And we do not know when that day will be. Each day we wake up can be experienced
as a gift…or a curse. We may not
have control over the circumstances of our lives but we can control how we
interpret and respond to what we experience. It isn’t always easy.
But the truth isn’t always very pleasant to grasp.
I have a certain principle that I attempt to live by. I cannot say I have always succeeded at
it. I’d like to believe one day I
might always be able to do so. I try
to be thoughtful and treat people in a way that is informed by the knowledge
that each time I see them may be the last time I ever see them. We can never be sure when will be the
last time we can say ‘I love you’ to the people we care about.
I think my early life experience of trauma must have
informed my outlook in regards to our common experience of mortality. I am so very aware of the all too often
fragile nature of the bonds that connect us with each other. I would rather focus my life on love
and kindness as opposed to animosity, divisiveness and bitterness. Again, this is often easier said than
done. The wounds of the heart can
burden us for many years.
I find this awareness to occasionally be both a gift as well
as a curse. I am very much aware
of the extensive gifts I have to offer.
And I am also aware of how I haven’t been using them very much…in many
years now. It’s sobering and very
disillusioning.
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