Boy, sometimes
it seems as though life just has to take a whole bunch of swings atcha. It’s
been that way for the past month, more or less. In total, there have been five
human deaths, and one dog death with another dog on the Grim Reaper’s lap. Then,
in twelve more days, it will be six years since John passed away. Daily, I feel
depression calling my name, and daily, I fight it back…but it isn’t easy.
The first death
was that of a man who was maybe fourteen or fifteen when we moved into this
house. He lived next door, the middle child with an older brother (who was hit
by a car and killed ten years ago), and a younger sister. We watched those kids
grow up and maintained contact through their parents for quite a long time.
Since hearing of his death, I’ve revisited some of the happenings and tales
from way back then. It’s also hard to wrap my head around the fact he was
pushing seventy and his little sister is sixty-six.
This was
followed by the passing of my zoo boss’ wife from lung cancer. We’d known since
late last year that, foregoing any kind of treatment (her choice), it would be
six months or so before she would die.
The third (and
I thought) final death was a huge shock. It was my first zoo boss who had
appeared to be in very good health. True, he had some health issues, but none
that were immediately life threatening. I don’t yet know what sent him to the
emergency room, only that he didn’t return. This was hard because over the
years he went from boss to good friend.
Through the
various emails that were generated by the second and third deaths, the knowledge
of the death of the zoo’s veterinarian who served for some of the years I was
at the zoo was shared. She passed in June and there was little information as
to why, but I really liked that woman and had often wondered where she’d gone
after my zoo. She made four.
The fifth death
was the husband of a woman with whom I worked at the zoo. Apparently, he had
broken a hip and during recovery must have suffered some kind of set-back.
That’s it for
humans. My neighbor’s dog which they’ve had for seven months, developed
pneumonia and passed the beginning of last week. My son’s dog is, as stated
earlier, sitting in the lap of the grim reaper waiting for her owner to find a
vet willing to come to the house and administer last rights.
As I said in
the beginning paragraph, I’m battling depression as a result, but what really
brought it all home was a little sojourn to University Village yesterday. One
of the stores visited was the Crate and Barrel. Many of you are probably
familiar with this store. I wandered around both the bottom and top floors and
admired all the wondrous items on hand for sale.
As much as I
appreciated the dishes, silverware, appliances, linens, lamps and furniture, it
made me sad because I will never have need of any of the stuff contained in
that store. I live in my own house with furniture I’ve had for decades (except
for the bedroom furniture I bought four years ago). I also have every other
thing I could acquire at the Crate and Barrel. Mine is all in good condition,
isn’t close to being worn out and there’s absolutely no need to look for
replacements.
I guess I saw
it as another way to look at how close to the end of my life I’m coming. Supposedly,
I’m at the point where I’m expected to be “downsizing” and eliminating “stuff”
from my life. Well, I’m not ready to do that either. I still like all my stuff
and while I don’t need to add much of anything new, I’m not ready to eliminate
it either.
It’s also
probably not the way to look at the next ten or twenty years I’ve left on this
earth. I “should” be thankful for each and every day and search out new
experiences and revel in the ordinary. Still, I’m finding it a bit hard at the
moment. I also know these thoughts and feelings won’t last unless allowed.
So, it’s past
time to put away the “woe is me” thoughts and get busy with something that will
put a smile on my face and a bounce in my step…don’t quite know what that will
be yet, but I’m on the lookout.
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