Four funerals and a wedding

The fragility and beauty of life astound me sometimes. I can go for weeks or months with nothing but work and life and cooking and cleaning and teenage angst to contend with, and then all of a sudden it’s like Mount Vesuvius erupts and out pours comedy, tragedy, love and disaster. Am I alone in this?

Let’s talk about the wedding. That’s the happy thing. My sister asked me casually one day a few months ago if I wouldn’t mind hosting her tiny informal second wedding at my house. Isn’t that beautiful?

You’re waiting to hear “But…” and no, there’s no “but.” It’s just not that tiny or informal. All other things are true. And I’m really excited. Because not only is it going to be a great day, and I get to do this for this sweet wonderful person who I love like a sister (yes, for good reason you are thinking very astutely, because she is my sister), but think of all that joyful karma, those smiling faces all rosey from champagne, and the blessings of love and togetherness and splendidness that will rain down upon us all, even if we’re shoehorned into my living room like kipper snacks.

On the flip side, I am simultaneously experiencing that fragility I mentioned - the shimmering mirage of life perfection that is shattered on a regular basis through sad and tragic events. It’s the call in the night. The text message that comes during a work meeting. Did you know? Had you heard the news? And the heart thud. No. Really? No no no. The disbelief. It can’t be. Disease, death and disaster are terribly unfair and yet wholly unbiased. Why do bad things seem to happen in big spurts, as if a storm rolls in and must release its full wrath before it can rumble away and things can be calm again?

At this moment, three people in my personal circle are battling cancer. Two will survive and live on, shaken but better people, stronger and more inspired by the gifts of life. The third will not. He will not live. He will not know his grandchildren. He is the husband of my friend, and his meteoric fall has been so swift that the exotic aromas of their overseas trip with their kids still lingers in their travel gear. Last year she lost another close relative. Seriously.

Meanwhile, two others from my circle recently left this world, both under tragic circumstances, one of them someone so dear to me that... that what? I am forever changed. There is no moving on, but there is a reckoning, somehow, and eventual acceptance.

Is there a lesson in all this? Maybe.

Perhaps it’s that since there is no safe zone, we must just go right ahead and be in it. All of it. The whole muddly, messy tapestry of this thing called life, just living and being, all intertwined with loss and pain, joy and tenderness, watching good things leap-frogging over things that are hard to accept and understand. Because the sun rises again. The fog lifts and spirits along with it. And those who suffer can lean on those of us who have at least partially, temporarily, healed.

Picture credits:
Image one: www.twitter.com #wedding
Image two and three: Pixabay