time, distance, place

There is a lot of death around me.

Friends, family members, and friends of friends are dying. It has been a lot lately. Intense, lately. Until you read wikipedia. On average, 150 000 people die every day. That's 150 000 families that are affected, plus or minus. Families, loved ones, children, co-workers, friends.

Still, it is difficult for us, individually, when someone we know is suddenly gone. A hospital, or the police, or a funeral home takes them away. We begin to flash-back to when we last saw them, or talked with them. I always regret my lack of communication and my distance, emotional and physical. Then again, as my sister said, we've a diverse family, members in different provinces, separated by great distances, distances that 100 years ago were, or today can be, difficult to surmount.

And then, I look at a crystal-clear digital photograph of the galaxy classified as NGC 4565. So far away. So detailed and rich that I feel I can reach out and touch it. Curiously, the light from the galaxy is from the distant past. And (while this is not a new concept, it is still bewildering) the light leaving the galaxy now (if it is still there) won't reach the surface of this planet for another 31 million years. I suspect then we'll all be long gone.

Not to be pessimistic. That's just a long time. Humans will have morphed into something completely different by then. A form we can't even begin to imagine...

But it is in moments like these that I wonder what it all means. Why did the death of my cat Tigger tear at my heart strings? Why did the death of Poppa, my grandfather, while estranged by my family, hurt so much? Why did I cry for days over the lose of Soccer, brother cat to Nancy. I'll miss Stan. Such a sad end for Marg. What is Robert feeling about the lose of his father Arthur? How do I express my feelings about the death of Stuart's and Cameron's fathers, after mine? Why does the lose of Angela's sister, whom I never met, give me such pause. And now, Aunt Rosamond is gone. She and Jack so inspired me.

Death is a mystery.

But when I look into the deep cosmos, at distant galaxies, I see, I feel, I sense, somehow I know, deep down, quivering, that it is totally, completely, fully, entirely natural. And as I read that back to myself, I think, Well, duh, that's total obvious! Stupid.

We are connected to this Universe, still.

I've no answers. If you're looking here for answers, I've nothing to give. I'm feeling, frankly, empty. I'm tired right now. I'm exhausted. I don't know what is next. I've consciously put blinders on. I'm myopic. I just need to get through the next day. I am so tired.

I'm sure in a few days, I'll feel better. All this will fold into my consciousness. I'll begin to tolerate and understand and accept their absence. And I'll, with greater gravity, remember it is all part of the wheel of time, the beacon of progress, the evolution of the cosmos. We are grist in the mill.

I can only hope that I can make a few fellow lives, human lives, on our tiny planet, in our quiet galaxy, in our little universal domain, a little bit easier. I hope I can help a few people.