I was handed some flowers

2009 is only a couple of weeks old and I feel like a year's worth of stuff has happened. It began on the 2nd while I was on my way home from the gym. No new year's resolution involved. As a matter of fact, I hadn't even gone into the gym because of the fleet of cars parked outside while the weight loss resolvers were sweating away inside. Figured I'd return after prime-time. The day was sunny and had been warmer than the week before. Roads were wet, but didn't seem to be slick . . . but that was my opinion. About 200 feet from my driveway, there was a car approaching me from the opposite direction and it was swerving all over the road. I thought it was someone playing around and would stop once he realized other cars were on the road. that is precisely when the car crossed the center line and torpedoed me up into a snow bank and into someone's yard. To say I was furious is devaluing the purity of my emotion of the moment. The 16 year-old driver of the other car that was bawling as I threw every curse word at him that came to mind might describe my reaction differently. The cops came, the medic trucks came and finally the tow truck came and hauled HS away from me forever. That's where the anger and the tears were coming from mostly. Yea, the reality of the inconvenience of shopping and buying a car as reliable as HS was a factor as well, but what really got me was that, the thing that had kept Grandma Helen with me since she passed away, her 1995 Ford Taurus, I killed . . . or a 16 year-old kid talking to his brother on his cell phone and "sliding on the ice," killed.

In the next couple of weeks some flowers were sent my way in the form of positive job interviews. The first one reconnected me with some old friends and introduced me to some potential professional contacts. It also was a bit of confidence boosting after being basically unemployed with no leads for that past 5 months. To talk about my professional-self and successes to respected educators reassured me that I was worthy of employment. A week later was a second interview and I really believed that one of them would hire me. The Monday after the Friday of the second interview, I got the phone call with a job offer. The irony is that it was the same morning that I found out Wendy had passed away. A smack in the face delivered with a bunch of flowers. Did you plan that, Wendy?

That exact weekend before Wendy smacked me and handed me the boquet, I bought the car that would replace HS. I like it and do feel that it's her bunch of daisies to give to me and that HS is still hanging around making sure I stay safe with her. And it's only January 21st!

A Comedic Tragedy

Never would I mean to suggest that the death of a good friend could be comical. Losing an amazing 35 year-old friend, instructor, mother, daughter, grand-daughter, sister, aunt and wife can't be anything but tragic. Wendy was struck down when there was still so much life for her to live. The magnetic field that followed her around drew people toward her. It held family, friends and students close to her. It also drew in strangers that, when introduced to her, wanted to be amongst Wendy's first-tier circle. Wendy, you spread life and confidence to everyone you touched with your beautiful smile, caring embrace, endless energy and love of a good laugh. You found good in everyone you met and were sure to tell them about it. You were to me the friend that gave it to me straight. Whether it was an outfit, a job or a boyfriend, you laid it out and made your opinion clear . . . and most of the time you were right, whether I listened to you or not.

I lived thirty-five years of life without having to deal with death. Now, in the past thirteen months I have said good-bye to four dear loved ones. One was my 93 year-old grandmother who was ready to go after raising and loving a huge family of kids, grandkids and great-grandkids. Her life was lived to the fullest. The other three were all taken way too early . . . taken in the middle of what were their greatest moments of life. This is where the "comedy" comes in. Comedy in its absurdity. Comic because, how in any real world could these lives be taken like that? It has to be a joke . . . right?!

People will often say that the bad things happen in 3's, or that it's just a string of bad luck . . . the good stuff is around the corner. I'm not so sure of the amount of truth to all that. Things like this are said in order to hold onto hope of life getting better, but they seem to suggest that all the bad will suddenly stop. What I'm finally learning after 36 years is that, yes, you must always hang on to the hope, but don't be surprised when life throws those unexpected blows, whether in 3's or multiples of 3. They can happen when things are good and they can happen when you think things couldn't get worse. That's life - cliché or not. And just as life throws its blows, it also sends flowers. It can all be spread out or it can all happen at the same time. It's the good, the bad and the time in-between and it let's us know that we are still here!

I take from these things the tragic yet comical lesson . . . . I am still here! I've lost Julie, Thor, Grandma Helen and Wendy who were all inspirations in my life. But, I AM STILL HERE!! And the greatest thing is that they were all with me in my first 35 years of life. I had them, learned from them, laughed with them, followed them, cried with them, hated them and loved them and THANK GOD for all of it! And now, I see that, because I am still here, it is up to me to make sure I continue with my life, all of the good things they did in their lives.

Maybe the comedy is the absurd. Maybe the comedy is the irony of such tragedy having to happen in order for us to see life's beauty. Maybe everything I just wrote is the comedy because it sounds completely rediculous. Whatever, I'm here and I must thank everyone in my life, currently breathing or not, for being a part of it now and forever!