It is, sometimes, surreal and cruel madness,
this life we live of birth to death. I know it is for lessons and
growth that we must pass through the trauma of getting grown, and then breaking down, but it is still madness.
I watched my friend prepare to bury her Mom
today. A large crowd filled the church and it was obviously a religious
experience for almost all present from the Amen's that resounded at times in
response to the pastor who led most of the service. And, understanding the pain and suffering her Mom endured on many levels
in her life, it was indeed - a positive change - if that even makes any sense in
some sordid and macabre dimension, in which I am never too
comfortable.
Three days prior, I watched other friends as they
circled around the casket of their 19 year old granddaughter...their strained expressions, wet cheeks, the palpable pain resonating throughout the air we all shared against the cold wind that blew around us on a January afternoon.
Waiting in the parking lot for my friends
to arrive for a meal of remembrance, I watched one of the swings on the playground near the
building, moving rhythmically, to and fro in the wind, though the other 2 swings stood stock
still. I wondered if this 19 year old child might be resting, wondering,
good-bying...on her journey between here and there. As I ate the food, participated in a ritual so
part of living and breathing and all that that represents, I felt numb
and out of place, and again - surreal.
Sometimes, as I walk my life-road, the trail is not so clear, some moments - not so easy, the climb - more treacherous, slippery, prone to lack of clarity, hazy at best. This week led me through some foggy miles. I drifted back 12 years, when I too, watched my Mommy claw her way through her last 24 hrs
on this planet.
Our individual moments, ingredients in a worldly soup of dark and light,
high and low, are the sweet and bitter morsels we chew on...as we walk
alone, each of us, on our own Trails of Nature.
But always...Nature prevails.
