Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Hold those I love a little closer.

I took the boy to our neighborhood community center today, where often we gather with other parents and young children to play and visit.

During this time, one of my friends received a call from yet another friend, informing her and all of us by proxy, of the shocking and sudden death of a neighborhood woman. I did not know her well, just to say hello to on the playground or at neighborhood festivals. I know, however, that she was well loved, had a close knit gaggle of girlfriends, two young girls, a beloved husband and a was never anything less than warm and kind in my small experience of her. We did know a lot of the same people, and I'm told she was the life of the party, a splendidly sparkly human.

Meningitis, I hear. Turned away from the emergency room last night, for a mistakenly diagnosed ear infection, and passed by morning.

I am deeply shocked and saddened, and too, recognize that my worries are but paltry in comparison. Perpective. Yes. Looks like my lamenting over not yet finding a job is foolish, I told one friend. My niggling concerns feel so wrong headed.

I just want to love my family up and snuggle with them into this blowsy day and into the dark night. I want to be really alive while I'm here and as fully present as humanly possible. I want to laugh longer, cry harder, love bigger, stay stronger. And hold those I love a little closer, a little dearer.

RIP, neighbor mama. Your husband and children will be well loved by many. Though none, of course, will be you.

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