I ate Life today for breakfast.
My wife's been hiding it away in a separate cupboard where we wouldn't normally put cereal. Did she really think I would steal it from her?
Of course I would. I just finished a bowl shaking my head that I'd ever been silly enough to forget how delicious it is. In fact, I may grab a second bowl later on.
Life is delicious, yes! And also… Yes, there is always an also… Always some sort of other next thing.
This one hurt. It made me stop.
Just before my 12:30 PM breakfast of cereal I was on the phone with a dear old friend whose mother had died just days earlier due to complications with something called frontal lobe dementia. She went quickly but not without much disorientation and painful behaviors outside of her control as the dementia distorted personality, gradually withering all semblance of meaningful relationship. The part of her mind that was in charge of choosing and thinking carefully destroyed itself, leaving my friends to sort out whether she was truly herself or not moment by moment. Their grief and ours is mixed with a sense of gratitude for the end of a dark episode and a resurrected return to who she is in all her fullness beyond the grave.
My friend and I were teenagers together and her mom was one of my first unofficial counselors. She loved by listening and by demonstrating a deep and genuine concern for how I was doing. I told my friend how much I needed her mom in my life at that time and that without her I am not quite sure what would have happened to me. There were the stresses of being a teenager. Crushes, promises broken and made, competitions we never planned on, a lot of deep bonding around hopes and dreams among good friends and a little misbehaving; she was somehow ready to hear it all and never bat an eye. She fanned the flames of genuineness and courage in my young soul.
Today my sense of loss sits right beside a rather boyant energy that simply wants to savor the joy of her life, and to let that joy accomplish whatever it will.
So many years ahead of each of us, Diane knew how rough and glorious life could be. She and her husband Ken adopted a whole bunch of us "creep-agers" and whoever spent any time with Kristy ended up spending time hanging out at their site in the park where many of us stayed for the summers. I always marveled at how much joy she took in introducing her parents, not that ours were in any way unspectacular, but she loved it. She knew the treasure they were and wanted all of us to come home to that kind of living and loving too, the kind she knew and wanted to share with us.
And isn't that how it is for all of us when we partake of something so rich and nourishing? It's not enough just to grab another bowl of it for ourselves. We long to hand it out and dish it up for anyone who comes along. We would invite the world, wouldn't we…?… each family member one by one, to come and sit down and hang out… to be seen and witnessed, to be heard for a while… Just as they are. Maybe we could all do a little better sharing Life, and particularly that sort which heals and supports and empowers those around us. Few of us possess the powerful reach of government officials, major networks or social media stars, but most of us do have the power to choose and reflect, to steer the mind in our hearts direction. May we set our true selves upon the life-giving and worthy course of loving as listeners, equals and friends.
