I once wrote a blog about perspective, about seeing the light and the dark in the world and being able to hold them both in balance. About recognising something of life is about experiencing pain.
I've thought about those words I wrote a lot lately. The Decemberists last album was named after a lyric in one of their songs that subtly touches on the same theme… What a Terrible World, What a Beautiful World.
So back on Sunday evening... I wrote this...
I'm in the Mediterranean just now, on my first holiday abroad since 2003… a holiday where I've been on my first ever flight… technology is amazing, people are amazing, the opportunities afforded to many in these modern times are just mind-boggling! And then…
Little things have niggled with me today, learning a little of the turbulent history of the Island of Cyprus… the suggestion that climate change may be responsible for the gloriously warm and sunny weather the area is experiencing just now… the thought of how close we are to those in Syria, to those crossing the rolling sea to escape from there, those trying to flee war, those who are trying to flee persecution in various African nations…
And then…
A message, from an old school friend, a young woman from our school year had just a couple of weeks ago been diagnosed with terminal metastasised cancer… and had after deteriorating very quickly died this weekend. It was expected, after the initial diagnosis and the conversations where we had all got in touch and tried to support each other, eventually we knew sooner rather than later the news would come that she was gone. And some people prayed, because they had kept their faith in a God, and some people thought of her family, and some people have no idea what to feel… and it all coexists … because it is life.
I thought that would be the saddest moment of my day, a brief moment of acknowledgement that someone who was an acquaintance mostly but was and had been a good friend and long time classmate to some of my own closest friends had died, too young, no age at all, for no good reason.
And then…
Then I saw a picture of a 14 year old boy in his school uniform… the eldest child of a friend my sister and I had in primary school. Someone who I have been back in touch with because of the marvel that is Facebook. He had died very suddenly, a seizure had caused a brain injury that he was unable to be recovered from, despite his father's amazing bravery in putting into practice his first aid skills. His parents arranged for his baptism with a vicar of the Chaplaincy of the Children's hospital and his heart was able to be donated to help another ill child… but what on earth do you say to a mother who has lost her son?
I can say nothing, I can do nothing but love, sometimes there are no words sufficient to soothe the aching heart… the broken heart…
32 is too young to die.
32 is too young to lose a child.
32 is still a time to explore the terrible, beautiful world.
Because live is a precious opportunity, and the terrible thing is amount you get is as good as utterly random, but how you see it and spend it can be beautiful.
