Death and Dying and Why it Sucks

God knows how many tiny lives have been lost.  God knows how many family members have been lost.  God knows how many dear and near friends are going to be leaving in the next few years or in this case weeks or days.   
God should know better.  

So I have a friend.  Her name of Patty.  She and I did not find each other in this life until another friend Nancy made us all go to trivia together about 4 years ago. (Rules about Trivia are a whole other story.  Love you Nancy.)  Patty and I were sisters or brothers or littermates in a former life. We have read the same books, been to the same national parks, like the same foods, and most importantly have the same weird sense of humor.  In this life, we have lived in a lot of the same places and had lots of the same experiences.  Our fathers were doctors, we lived in Michigan, we have both traveled, love road trips and seeing the world's largest ball of string.  I think she was even at the Michigan Women's Festival the year my sister got arrested.  (Another long story to be told later.)  We have come close on many occasions to having our lives intersect. 

Well as fate would have it, we don't get to become better friends because God is not cooperating. She (Not God) has end-stage colon cancer and has decided that spending time with friends and family is more important than sitting with an IV in her arm.  I love this about her. 

The other day it just hit me how deeply deeply sad I was about our aborted time in this realm. We won't be sitting together in the Barking Dog making fun of the guy that runs the Trivia Night.  We won't be able to have a good snicker when all the answers are Teddy Roosevelt.  We won't just hang out and share a good glass of wine or beer or watch the hummingbirds.  She won't ever be able to spend time in our lovely back yard in Eastern Washington watching birds that flock for good food. She won't be taking great pictures of amazing objects. She won't be readily accessible for witty banter and serious conversations.  She won't be around to scoff at my dogs or ever really get to know my co-conspirator. I bet she won't be able to join us on the Mini Road Rally set for this summer. 

 It just makes me so melancholy.  

Patty recently shared a book she wrote about taking care of her mom at the end of her life.  More than a book about her mom, it was a book about her.  About her life. About the ups and downs of being a daughter, a mother, a wife, and a friend.  It was supposed to be about having a failed relationship with her mom. A lot had to do with how she didn't want to be like her mom.  After reading it, I don't think I had the chance to tell that I have never found her to be like her mother.  I have never found her to be more than open and loving and caring. She is practical and direct and no-nonsense about life.  She is a good example of how we grow in our lives and we are not always defined by them. 

So while a lot of us write about people after they have become part of the universe we cannot access without a medium, I wanted to front-load my sorrow and grief.  I am perched above the Pacific Ocean, watching the waves pound the ancient basalt formations.  She is in Hawaii, enjoying time with family.  Our views are very different of the same body of water.  Her's is warm and sunny. Mine is cold and windy and angry with white caps and crashing waves.  Maybe that explains our different states of mind.  

As I just watch the tide coming into shore, I just wanted to suggest we spend more time with those we love and cherish.  Never let and thing go unsaid.  Eat more good pastries and drink good wine.  Read good books and remember Theodore Rosevelt is the answer to way more trivia questions than you can imagine.