Saturday, April 17, 2010

Further proof of my theory that Death is a F*cking Bastard

My friend Christine is one of those people that I will always consider a good friend.  We worked together for many years.  She gave me maternity clothes when I was pregnant with the Wonderboy.  She is also a person that is genuinely great.  Funny, sensitive, smart.  Friendly to everyone.  A truly good soul.  Deserving of every happiness.  She and I have not seen much of each other recently.  Busy lives and different schedules have rendered us occasional email friends without much face to face time. But because of the kind of person she is, she will always be one of my favorite people.

Yesterday, I found out that her husband of thirteen years died suddenly this week.  His name was Frank.  He was as warm and friendly as Christine.  They have two young girls  - ages 9 and 8 (approximately, I admit to losing track.)  Christine has had some high level hotel jobs, Frank worked in audio and was able to stay home with the girls for the past several years.  Every time I think of them all, I start to cry.

One of the things Christine and I had in common was that we both lost our Mom's at a young age.  We've talked about how we wanted to have huge 40th birthday bashes since neither of our Mom's made it to that milestone.  She also lost her Dad.  Part of the deep connection that she and Frank had was that they had both lost their parents.  They had other family, but they were each others' true family.  I honestly cannot imagine what she is going through.

It makes me think about my Dad, and what he went through when my Mom died.  With two young kids.  And my heart breaks all over again.  Why the fuck does shit like this have to happen?  I know there is no answer to that question.  I don't have the faith that some do to help ease any of the pain.  Sometimes I regret that, but it is what it is.  So I lean on others.  My family and friends that can take some of it for me.  I hope to be able to do that for Christine. 

Some people, after experiencing a death in their life, get the "live every day to the fullest" idea in their head.  I don't think, in theory, there is anything wrong with that idea.  But I also don't think that it means that we have to try to solve world problems, or go sky-diving every other day or put even more pressures on our already stressed selves.  I think living to the fullest is what is best for you in that day.  It might mean reading a book and taking a nap.  Or cuddling up with your kids on the couch for a movie.  Or having a dance party in your living room. 

The only thing that I think is really crucial to do every day is to tell those that are closest to you that you love them.  No matter what.  Every day.