Yesterday I went knitting with a friend. One of their knitting circle had passed away-a 30 something year old man (hetro, his wife was a member of the group as well). He had been sick, went to bed, never woke up.
I'm watching a big orange moon rise outside my window-a moonrise this guy didn't get to see. He won't ever see THIS one, maybe he saw one like it, maybe he'll see another, but where ever he is, I doubt he's worried about this particular moon.
Where ARE you? I always ask that when anyone dies, and so far no one has answered. Is there some intake place you go to? For that matter, does everyone go to the same place? I mean, why would they-we've all gone different directions all of our lives, why would go to the exit door to leave?
Yesterday my eyes misted over a few times, once for this man, once for his wife, once for a friend of his and mine who was moved to tears. Amazing creatures we humans, the mere news of something that we can relate to can generate powerful emotions. When Bitty died last week, my dogs looked for her, relating to her absence. Had they come across her dead body, they probably would have chewed on it and would not have pondered how Bitty had become a chew toy, only felt delight in finding a chew toy.
I can't decide which attitude is better-and the truth is probably that neither is. I cannot react like a dog any more than a dog can react like me-we're just different.
I wish I could cherish all moonrises the way I cherish the one tonight-simply because I'm here to see it. Really, just being here is a gift we often overlook. If you are here, reading this, I wish for you the same sense of joy I have at this moment, watching the moon. Glad to be here.