Stop Counting

I listen to a woman my age who is drowning in grief over every passing, over every misery she observes. It’s exhausting for her – and for me.

But I relate better to another friend who was revived when his heart stopped. His lifetime partner had died two months before. He was angry that they’d not allowed him to join her.

I don’t think it’s grief that fuels such desires. I believe she was reaching out to him, or they were reaching for each other.

So, I have decided to stop tracking all the people I know who die.

Am I in denial? After all, I have reached the age my mother was when she succumbed to melanoma. And in the past few years, many friends have passed.

Perhaps I’m wrong about this, but when I die, I hope to be reunited with those who’ve been important in this life. And I hope to meet other souls who have influenced me by their words and actions.

If I’m to meet them with my head up, I need to live each day here as though it were my last, by being present today, not wishing for a different past nor hoping for a perfect future – those ‘if only’ and ‘what if’ distractions. The operative word there is IF, which stands for In Fantasy or, in cruder words I'm f**cked.

Letting go of counting those who are gone frees me up – like giving up the search for an old schoolmate. If I’m supposed to ‘find’ someone, it will happen. It will happen in spite of my efforts. It will happen at the ‘right’ time.

In the meantime, I can enjoy my current life, my living friends, family and acquaintances.