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.