Potential Last Words

I was at a memorial service yesterday for a friend who died at age 28 from cancer. It was a fantastic service and about as light as a memorial can be. Her life was truly celebrated, and that does her as much honor as I can imagine.

During a portion of the service, a note, left behind in her Bible, was read. I suppose it was because of the note that the service could be help in such peace. We were not told when the note was written, if it had been penned during her last times she knew. The idea occurred to me that we don't know when we'll be done, which of our words will be our last, and it got me to thinking of what my last words would likely be. Would they be uplifting, or a complaint? A joke? A noise resembling a young muskrat being stepped on? I suppose that wouldn't really be a last word (Not if you count the gurgling sound).


Lately, I've been so enveloped with life (not in the best of ways), that I've been running dry on material that would be even of slight interest. Therefore, periodically, I will leave you with some potential last words.

Death and One Funny Thing

Over the course of a week, I heard of two deaths that really bothered me. One was the brother of a former student, the other a great friend's grandmother. This stirs all sorts of feelings and thoughts, as death seems to do. But the real beast of it is that I've not said hardly anything to those who lost.

My dad died when I was four. Throughout high school and the early part of college, I was crumpled if I thought about it for more that .3 seconds. I know the sorrow that death brings, that insensitive, numbing lukewarm feeling that wraps around the body and suffocates. I often told myself that one reason my dad died was so I could help others who faced something similar. But I haven't.

All of a sudden I'm loaded with an insecurity, a lack of confidence about what to say when I know that often, people don't want to hear anything. They want to know that somebody is praying, loving, being a safety net in the event that they need to gush.

I need to suck it up.

On a totally different note, I heard somebody call Shihan a bad mamma jamma yesterday...and he was serious.

And Time Slips By

Do you ever think it odd that time moves the same as it ever did, but once you try to hang on, it accelerates until you find yourself in a totally new day, new week, new year? In addition to this (I'm assuming) common feeling, I slam against an anxiety as I constantly evaluate the time remaining to prepare for a task. Point in case: getting ready for school.

On Tuesday, I came to the school to begin my beginning-of-the-year preparations, Wednesday was mostly meetings, and Thursday has been nothing but meetings. And so, my time has slid out of sight. But just yesterday, I told myself that I had a full week to get my act ready. Today, I feel freaked out like I've lost too much time. One day's difference has me on edge, feeling smothered but teetering.

I've often felt like pressure produces my better work, but over the last year or so, this anxiety and related stress makes me want to do nothing at all. I need an escape of some kind, just an evening of nothingness. Unfortunately, I don't think I'll get one for quite a while now.

In other news, I found out yesterday that the brother of a student I had last year died this last weekend. The ultimate monster to meditate on, second only to life. I don't think I'm up to reflect on it at this point. Another time.