While others around me struggle, I’m struck with an uncomfortable sense of my own fragility.
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I cried while I wrote this.
Thinking about my buddy Dane, who died a couple weeks ago in a car wreck. He was 21 years old and a damn good musician.
And thinking about one of my grandmothers, who is chained to her room by the 30 foot cords attached to her oxygen tanks.
I’ve got another grandmother, too, who is in the final stage of her journey. After months of confusing symptoms and a couple weeks at the Mayo Clinic, Hodgkin’s Lymphoma will ultimately take her vibrant, beautiful life. Those closest to her recently agreed to discontinue the medications keeping her alive.
Meanwhile, one of my friends is banging on the door of the Mayo Clinic. No doctor down here can give her a diagnosis. Nobody knows why she’s feeling so severely tired. She’s scared.
We are all scared.
And I don’t know exactly how to deal with any of this.
So I do what writers do, and I write about it.
I have a cocktail of feelings; a potluck of emotions.
I put them out into the world for everyone to see, which is an awkward way of searching for solace. You’re a stranger, I suppose, but we surely have something in common.
We’re fragile, you and me.
While others around me struggle, I’m struck with an uncomfortable sense of my own fragility.
When the sun follows the storm, it doesn’t always pop out all at once. Don’t like ads? Become a supporter and enjoy The Good Men Project ad free |
No, “struck” isn’t the right word. It hasn’t “hit” me. I haven’t had a singular moment when I “got it.” Frankly, I don’t know what there is to be gotten.
The feeling I’ve had most often as of late is the same feeling I get when I’m watching an ominous thunderstorm approach. The clouds are dark. They darken as they roll closer. The temperature begins to change, and so does my mood to match it.
I’m aware that I am fragile, but the feeling comes and goes. Sometimes, they return.
Just like storms.
The sun follows.
When the sun follows the storm, it doesn’t always pop out all at once.
Often, we see rays. Sometimes, one at a time.
And I think that’s how this situation will unfold. I believe it, actually.
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Photo: Flickr/Sara