SOME DAYS

There was a friendly reminder on Facebook this morning that the deadline for submitting to Covering the Corner was coming up.  My first reaction was “Oh no.  Not this time.  Not this month.”  My style is to write what I think, and what I’m thinking these days is much too personal.  I would sit this one out.

But a seed had been planted.  My mind began organizing an outline, picking and choosing what needed to be said, sorting through the words that would say it best. 

This mind exercise was a breath of fresh air, actually.  Writing is therapy for me and putting my thoughts down on paper might promote healing.  I don’t know.  It’s worth a try. 

I will see how it goes.  If you are reading this I have decided it is worthy of sharing. 

We are almost a month into our family trauma.  We have worked our way through the ritual of planning Mitchell’s funeral, comforted and strengthened to share this burden with family, friends and others.  We are honoured and thankful that so many people care. 

It has been reassuring to make contact with his online friends.  He’d told me lots of times how close their friendships were, talking and coaching each other as they played.  As these people from far and wide posted their memories and impressions of him on a page they created for that very purpose, it was obvious they knew the same Mitchell we knew and would miss him as we do.  It seems alien to my old-fashioned brain that your can form powerful relationships over the Internet, but our hometown son travelled to Texas for one friend’s Grandpa’s funeral, to North Carolina with a bunch of buddies and ended up helping with hurricane clean-up while they were there, and he even drove to Edmonton to be groomsman for another friend a few years ago.  He seems to have coloured outside the regular lines with his life, and he would be proud to hear me say that. 

Counting the number of one’s days is a poor method of measurement.  You can live 9 decades and have nothing to show for it, or just 9 years and be loved by all who knew you.  We are not the only ones who are missing him: his co-workers, his customers, his close-knit group of D&D friends.  His absence leaves a gaping hole in our days.  

We don’t get to pick how long we are here, and we foolishly behave like we have endless tomorrows.

I don’t know if I’m just overly sensitive to such stories, but in the past few days I’ve heard of two more un-fore-see-able deaths of people much younger than I am.  People just scooped up out of their lives while supper was cooking.  Leaving those who love them reeling with shock and sorrow.  It’s not that I would wish this upon anyone else but it does help put the trauma in perspective.  These things happen every day.  Certainly we mourn our dead but there are also new babies to rejoice over born every day.

Time moves forward.  The world rolls on.

How are we doing? 

Well, some days are not so good.  Some days, not so bad. 

Humanity is a blessed thing.  Beginning with our close circle of friends and family, then widening outwards to include the immediate community of Redvers with all the food and gifts and thoughtfulness they have offered, and then stretching even further to encompass those we don’t really know but who have reached out to us because they have suffered similar losses and therefore extend to us priceless empathy and understanding – all of you are helping to steady us in this storm. 

We thank you.