Life in Balance

This morning I was told that an amazing woman whom I've known for many years, died last night. Dealing with news of her death feels like hitting a wall. Even though I was prepared for the news, it still bites. As I allowed the reality to be absorbed, I began to think about her life. She was an amazing person and lived a meaningful life. She traveled the world living in the most exotic places. She related to everyone with kindness, warmth and generosity.

Violet was a wife of a military man, she had a daughter and four grandchildren. Her body failed her many years ago when she found out she had Parkinson. Living with Parkinson did not deter her from having a full life. She died with dignity and grace with her daughter at her bedside.

I am thankful to have spent time with her and her husband, Lee, during many of my travels to Hawaii. One year, I celebrated New Year's Eve with them staying up until the wee early hours when all that was left in the streets were ghost of dancers celebrating. She was a most gracious host, really more like family. She lovingly referred to me as her other daughter.

Recalling something a Buddhist monk said helps me deal with this loss, "we don't own people, we are given the opportunity to share life with them". At some point their journey takes them on a different path away from you. In balance, when I think about Vi, I know that I am a better person for having known her.

Butterflies

Did you feel that, Mom? Was it fun? Questions from my son, after some turbulence flying home from Alberta. Yup, that was fun I say lying through my teeth, gripping the armrest as though it can actually save me if the worst occurred.

Why is it I can easily accept the notion of death until life flips upside down (not literally) and spins me out of control (slight exaggeration for effect). Really, it is not difficult to acknowledge death on a cognitive level because it is a fact of life, we know that. Don't we? Yet, when faced with a real possibility (or a perceived possibility) of death like this incident, my heart beats faster, well more like a pounding jack hammer under my sweater. My mind starts filling up with inconsequential thinking like how is my kamma bank. I am acutely aware that I'm not in control, and we are at 35, 000 feet high and traveling hundreds of miles per hour above the earth.

My son, on the other hand is enjoying cloud potholes. Bring on the turbulence, the rougher the better says he. Love those butterflies, he laughs. I say, so do I, to which he replies you're lying, mom! You can't hide from a kid. It is true we accept that we are going to die, but, not really.

I surrender, and take a moment with a meditation focusing on my breath. All is good. I'm here for the ride.