Dark Thoughts

In a somewhat black mood today. Hesitate to chalk it up to hormonal imbalances, but don't really know what to attribute it to exactly.

Was talking to someone the other day about cut flowers she'd received from a friend. She wanted to hurry up and "put them into water before they died". Ironic since of course, once cut they're dead. Adding water simply prolongs the wilting process and sustains their prettiness for just a little bit longer.

Realised that one could draw an analogy between the flowers and human life. From the moment we draw our first breath, we are basically on the path towards death. I know that sounds extremely morbid, but it's essentially true. For some people, the path is a long one and for others an extremely, inexplicably short one. Some of us spend a lifetime trying to prolong the aging process so that we don't wilt at the same rate as others.

Found out the other day that this woman I knew died quite suddenly. She's a parent of one of the kids at my school, but my connection with her came from elsewhere. Apparently, she'd contracted some kind of flu-like virus from one of her clients, was ill for a couple of days, slipped into a coma and then died from an aneurysm.

Last month, the father of the childcare director at my youngest son's school died as well, also quite unexpectedly right in the middle of a celebratory dinner following a cruise he'd taken fourteen family members on. He drew his last breath moments after giving a toast to his family, saying how much he'd enjoyed being with them, how lucky he was to be surrounded by such a special family, how wonderful his life was. Essentially, he gave his own eulogy.

I'm not about to get all Woody Allen neurotic and start freaking out that maybe this is my last day on earth, but both these stories really did affect me. You really don't know how long you have. If I make it to the expected average age of a woman, then my life is already almost half over. Amazing how quickly a lifetime passes.

My parents are aging at a rapid rate. I was supposed to spend this weekend with them in Montreal, but have had to postpone my visit as my dad isn't feeling up to snuff. Each time I speak with my parents, my mom slips in a comment that they are getting old and their health is compromised. It seems that she feels betrayed by the fallibility of her own body. Sometimes I think that in her attempts to inform me that she and my dad are at the end of the trajectory of their lives, she is trying to warn me of the inevitable. It's something I hate to contemplate.

When I went to pick up my kids at school this afternoon, I sat in my car for a few minutes and watched Jason's class playing in the schoolyard. The look of glee and joy on the faces of the four and five-year-olds as they ran and chased each other was precious. It struck me that my innocent and carefree children would one day have to come to terms with life without me.