Every time a bell rings...

Mortality is a fickle friend. We all live with it each and every day, but rarely does it stand up and smack us in the face. Recently however, we've kind of been bitch slapped.

I think about my wife's grandparents, who have begun passing away over the last few years, and my daughter who will grow up hearing only stories of them. I think of my grampa who has been on the edge of life for quite some time now, and who's passing will be profoundly sad, yet a great relief in many ways. I wonder how much knowledge and experience is kept captive in his vessel, unable to be communicated? Soon, it will all be lost. I think about my Aunt whom I never truly got to say goodbye to.

Recently a good friend and employer of mine was taken...not completely away, but much too close for comfort. This man is about the same age as my dad, and is suffering from congestive heart failure. Though he has only been a part of my life for a short time, he has effected me in more ways than I can express. In a profound moment of strength a collegue compaired my friend to the fictional George Baily, wondering aloud "how much would not have happened if Don had not been here?" How much?

How much is enough to measure?

I would not have a job...

or better yet, I would not be fulfilled in my professional life.

Perhaps I would never have seen the twinkle in the eyes of a man who absolutely loves what he does and the people with whom he works. I would never have recieved the encouragement to press my own boundaries and discover a new level of personal and professional expression. I would never have found what is effectively my home away from home.

Though death is painful, and difficult or impossible to rationalize away, what brings me solice is the memory of life. The tactile and emotional experiences shared with our loved ones. I remember my Aunt's fried chicken, and her beautiful smile and her hair. I remember my grampa's war stories, his calm quiteness and how he NEVER let you sit in his seat at the dinner table!

This time, in my immediate life, a potnetial loss has been channeled into a rallying cry of strength, with a community coming together in a way I have never seen, arm in arm to help my friend thought his darkest hour. As he has gained strenght from us, we in turn have gained strength from him. I have learned that the real lessons in life come not from how one deals with loss, but from how one takes advantage of the time we all are given.

With that, I must go and run around in the grass with my child. Perhaps I will take a photograph so that we both can remember...