A few months ago, shortly after I returned to work after my brother passed away, I went out for Dim Sum with some of my co-workers. I believe it was also around the time we found out my grandfather had cancer. I was feeling like a gutted fish... empty... but because I am my mother’s daughter, I still had a smile plastered on my face and an old Shirley Temple song playing on repeat in my head...
Be optimistic...
Don't you be a grumpy...
When the road gets bumpy
Just smile (smile)
Smile and be happy...
Another one of my co-workers had been through it recently as well. He had gotten stricken with swine flu and been in two accidents within the six months he had been working at the job - one of which left a very noticeable scare down the middle of his face. We were telling our stories... of death and disfigurement... with inappropriate laughter when one of my co-workers said "That’s why I am sitting over here... I don't want to get too close to you two." We all laughed but I wondered...
Was my sudden bout of sour life something you could catch?
Did I somehow bring the negativity on myself?
Was there an invisible dark cloud looming over my head that I just couldn't out run?
I literally went from being that person who had never experienced the death of someone I love to
watching two people I love die within six months. I went from feeling the immortality of my twenties, optimism of being in love, exhilaration over my son... to being that person that mulls over the reality that it could all be ripped away within hours... minutes... seconds.
The morning my brother left us, I went to work like any other day. I was excited because it was the heart of the swine flu scare and I had gotten Isaiah his vaccine the day before. He ate a bunch of Oreos while we waited on line at the vaccination clinic and had a small tummy ache... but he was safe.
Everyone was safe.
Life would continue to go along as planned.
I made plans to buy plants and candy for my desk on lunch. Even after my mother called from New York and said my brother went to the hospital - I went to get my plants. I thought - this is what happens when you get run down, he is such a workaholic... I will call him on his cell phone in a few hours to make sure he is okay and go visit him... at his apartment... this weekend. A few hours later, I was on a train headed to New York because his organs were failing and he was on a ventilator... and my brother died before I got to sleep on a Wednesday. I watched the doctors attempt to save him and I was quiet... with tears in my eyes. I could hear my mother screaming behind me... I could feel my dad tugging at my arm warning me not to watch... I remember saying meekly, "Hold on, Tommy..." and that’s all I could muster. He died... and a piece of all of us died with him. That following Monday, we were at his funeral. How is that even possible?
I believe in God.
That’s one of the rules right? Of being favored.
You are supposed to believe in God... you are supposed to treat people right... you put positivity in the world and refrain from negativity.
You remain faithful.
You try not to lie... cheat... steal.
You remain compassionate, practice empathy... you treat others how you want to be treated.
You appreciate your blessings... you practice gratitude (that's either a God rule or an Oprah one...)
I think I am good person.
I think my family is full of good people...
Why us?
I look up and I can't visibly see the rain clouds though the sun shines dimmer... is that global warming or just me?
Now, my religious history is such that I was baptized a Lutheran, raised Catholic (with close to 12 years of Catholic School under my belt), considered converting to Islam in college, became somewhat of a Zen Buddhist in law school and now I just believe in a higher power and try to be a good person...
I am no authority.
BUT... I remember a common theme in all of these belief systems... have faith in God and you will be abundantly blessed... charmed even. There is even an obnoxious song by Mary Mary that plays ad nauseum on urban radio about this very thing.
What does it mean when things go bad?
Did I accidently hold the door for Devil at Target?
Was it that premarital sex I had in college? (sorry Mom)
Was it living with my husband before we got married?
Was it the piercings.. tattoo?
Was it that time I gave a man the double finger in my rearview mirror for tailgating in the middle lane?
... Or did I simply catch it? Like a virus... it will run its course... slap my family and I around for a bit and then die out... taking a few people with it.
What does it all mean?
What is the lesson?
Maybe I was just supposed to toughen up. I have always been a bit of a softy.
Clearly, I am having some sort of crisis...
...or maybe it’s just life.
Maybe the bad stuff is just a part of the journey.
Or maybe I need to invest in a sage stick...
