You would think that by now, having experienced ups and downs and seen how things change, I would be able to nod and say, "This is normal. This is life. C'mon, Em, you know that every day you live is one day gone from your life."
Why can't I banish the fact that things you love have to die?
Favorite things wear out. Green leaves turn brown, crinkle, fall from the tree to be blown by the wind, or swept into a pile that's burned or buried. The blue-gold petal of fire on the candle melts the wax, burns out, and it's gone. A day begins as the sun rises and ends as the sun goes down.
A dear friend died. I knew she was ill, but didn't know she was dying. Her husband died a few months ago. A few days ago, when her secretary phoned to tell me she'd left the earth, I thought the phone call was about next week's luncheon tribute she'd arranged for her husband. Now the tribute will be for both of them.
Is that why from my window the world seems to be withering and crumpling -- wars, politics, poverty, corruption -- a sense of gray, and no solutions pervade my thoughts?
Ho ho -- looking out my window is telling me to turn around and look at the inside my house -- see the colors, enjoy what's lighted, bright and clean and doing things in my office, in all my rooms.
My home sweet home reminds me that growing old is something not to dwell on. Yes, you have to glance at realty, and see what you see, but you have to move on.
My friend is no longer alive, and what I see out my window is getting grayer and darker, but if I turn -- okay, what's outside my window is there -- okay, I can feel my grief and miss my friend -- even so, in this room and all the rooms inside my house, is the world I made, that I can see and be in.
Ho ho! Now is the time to enjoy the now.