Over the last few weeks I had the unfortunate duty to attend two wakes. I did not know the people who died, rather I showed up out of respect to the people involved. The first involved a brother of a friend of my son. We know the dad. The son was 29 and died of an overdose.
The second wake involved someone I worked with, he and his wife went to bed one night and when he awoke the following morning, she was dead.
Both sad events, both with loss of life. I watched as people came in to pay their respects, trying to offer a bit of comfort to the grieving loved ones. A few spoke, speaking of the good times, sometime with tears, voices choking with emotion. The turn out of people was bigger then I expected, which was good. Families and friends are scattered throughout the country so I did not know what to expect.
Might the thinking be, I wondered, throughout the gathering was, it is not my turn yet. I am not ready yet. I will never be ready.
But the one thought in everyone's mind was:
I am glad it is not me.
2 comments:
And the older we get, the more we think it. I'm still in denial; it's a lovely place to live. In the meantime, that's just what I'll do, with all the passion I have: live.
Linda
It is natural I think for the subject to come up. When you are younger, one is bullet proof. When you reach a certain age the thought bubble rears its ugly head.
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