This new year has brought with it a slew of deaths. News trickles in over the phone, through email, over whatsapp. Each day seems to bring with it one more person I knew that passed away. Facebook seems to have caught in on the theme, popping up writing by Paul Kalanithi who passed away last March but not before penning down an incredible memoir.
Long past my course work last night, I sat in the study under the dim light reading. I am not done with the book yet so I will save my comments for later but what struck me was the immediacy of death.
I am not sure how much of my mind frame is because of entering my forties but death seems to feature quite a bit. I wonder in the quiet moments when I am by myself if I have done everything in my power to leave my children and husband adequately prepared to move on. It spirals into a discussion that has no answers. It leaves me feeling disturbed at many levels.
Conversations about career and pursuing passions that once appealed to me seem blasé now. Standing by the patio door late last evening watching the snow swirl and dance in 30 mph gusts with my family around me, reminded me of how little we matter in cosmic sense. There is a sense of awe that simple things provoke. The full moon, the blooming flower, the torrential rains, birth and death.
Where once, this line of thought would have provoked me to think of the future, I now focus on the present, the now, the only thing that matters. Leftover food provokes a discussion on haves and have nots. Lost glasses lead me to touch upon responsibility, fiscal and otherwise to almost seven year olds. I feel like time is running out and there are so many things to be said, to be written down for my children.
I wonder about timelessness and how it would be like if there was no such thing as time. No calendars, no clocks, nothing to mark and carve the day into slices. Just an inexorable march in tune with the sun.
The cynic in me shrugs it all off and proceeds to look at the calendar and update my to-do lists.