eternal

I heard some very hard news about a friend.  The kind of news that snatches the breath out of your lungs mid-inspiration.

Three to five years with intensive treatment.

Blink.
Blink.
Blink.
Silence.

How can this be?  How can this have happened?  But of course, it can be and has happened because life is like that.  No one is immune.  It is an undocumented contract we sign with our first cry outside of the womb.  As long as you are still breathing you may be subject to terrible things or incredible things at any given moment.

We all know this.  At least, at some point in time we figure it out.  It took the death of a much wanted son to convince me of this truth.  But everyone eventually reaches the same conclusion just via different routes. Some are just fortunate enough to breeze through longer than others.  Yet even knowing this we go about our days in usual fashion; eating frosted cereal from a too-big bowl while reading the puzzles on the back of the box.  We slurp down the leftover sweetened milk from our cereal and then brush our teeth.  We iron our clothes and do the dishes.  We watch bad television and write about silly things like baking a cheesecake.  We go to work at jobs we don't really like.

I wonder if why she wanted me to come with her was because we both learned about the inevitable conclusion to life in the same way.  I've known for almost two years.  She's known for nearly thirty.  We both can sit with the shadow of tragedy looming large in a room and not pretend that it isn't there.  A skill set possessed by few.

If I am totally honest with myself, even with a tiny little box of ashes sitting on my dresser and knowing death the way I do, I still feel eternal.

When it comes down to it don't we all?