It makes not sense

It is a new year, but the theme as of late, is more akin to death than to birth. I have three friends who in the past few days have all experienced the loss of someone dear to them. For one, the miscarriage of her unborn child, nearly halfway through her pregnancy; for another, the sudden death, via drunk driver, of a friend of a friend (a married mother of three young children); the third, the seemingly senseless murder of a close friend, a shining soul no older than myself.

I am saddened by these losses, overwhelmed with empathetic thoughts, and also in awe. In awe of this universe and the way in which it works. All things, all together, meaningful and painful. Glorious and profoundly upsetting. Timely and frustratingly random. We are all so overworked, overwrought, and spread thin. More so, we are also all so blessed, if we can stretch ourselves to see it.

These deaths reminded me of my own loss, not so long ago, of the kindred (dog) spirit who captured my heart and kept me company on the farm. Her gentle soul left the earth on the morning of my departure. Cruelly. Strangely. It makes not sense. But it. Just. Is. We all come and go from this planet. Plants, animals, sentient beings. Our lives are brief or extend for decades. I have to think they all serve a purpose. What that is, I cannot say.

For me, these deaths encourage gratitude. I can’t imagine I’m alone in this. Without the cruelty of life, we might for a moment forget the qualities that bind us. Forget our impermanence. Mistake a feeling or a moment as anything but fleeting.