Many Funerals And A Wedding

What time is it, you ask?   It's whine time again!   So, as I probably mention too often, I work with dying people and grieving families.    I hear stories of unbelievable suffering, sicknesses piled upon sicknesses.   There are also people in my own family who have such sad lives, and I feel helpless in the face of it.   Most of the time I am so very tired, for no good reason, and every inch of my body aches, presumably a sign that I am growing old, or more old.    My brain doesn't work as well as it used to, it is not as quick to find solutions or change gears or remember where I put my glasses.   My house is cluttered and dirtier than I wish, and I've misplaced the energy it would take to clean and organize it.   It's easy to feel beaten down, depressed, discouraged.   It's easy to mentally carry burdens that aren't even mine.   Easy to dwell on how quickly the river flows downhill, on how little time is left, and on how much I haven't had a chance to do, how much I will never have a chance to do.    It's not only easy to think those self-defeating thoughts, sometimes it's nearly impossible not to.

And so I try to remember to do what I suggest to my families; take a few minutes each day to clear my thoughts, to gently push away my worries, to simply follow my breath.    It's a fact, the river only flows in one direction and the good years ahead of me are limited.  But this month I picked flowers and worked on fairy houses with my grandchildren.   This month I breathed the spring air and tasted strawberries and kale from our local farmers' market.   This month I was the officiant at the marriage of a young couple who will begin their new lives with an energy and joy I can barely remember.    This month I thought with gratitude about what a good father my son is to my grandchildren, and about how smart he was to choose such a good mother for them.   True enough, this month I did several funerals, and each one of them was sad.   They take a toll on the families, and a smaller toll on me.  But this month, maybe I'll go fishing.   The river won't stop, the current will continue to flow, and I know it will carry me away sooner or later.    But today, right this minute, life is good.