Transitions

Death is such an interesting phenomenon and part of life. It is one which many of us try to ignore or are afraid to talk about or separate this integral aspect of living from the rest of our lives. Yet it happens with all of us. This occurs with the death of an idea, the death of a spouse or child, the death of a job or career, and the death of a dream. We watch death every day. The slow death of the grass and flowers after their blooms. The death of a robin after it bangs into a window or after a storm. The death of a beloved pet. The death of a houseplant or even the yearly death of tree leaves as they fall to the ground, fertilizing the earth to feed the next year’s growth. Some deaths we feel more strongly than others. There is nothing more life-changing and sad, and no more significant loss than the death of a child. The death of a parent is a great loss. The death of a spouse you have spent your life with is a gut-wrenching loss.  Recently I experienced the death of a sibling.  It is an odd experience losing a sibling; even one you might not have been close with. It is as if a little bit of the air you breathe is lost. Something is missing. I wasn’t particularly close with my sister. I loved her, but we were not so close. Our lives together were not easy or comforting most of the time. She could be very mean to me at times and was sometimes openly resentful of me and sometimes was resentful in a hidden way. I am not an easy person to be with. As an adult I understood, but the little girl in me still tried to please my older sister for years, until I gave up and realized that it wasn’t right for me to be around someone who didn’t particularly want to be with who I am as a person. And it also wasn’t good for her. And yet, when she transitioned, when she died recently, I felt it. She was only one year older than me.  We share blood.  We shared many memories. Good ones and bad ones. She was an integral part of my life. I feel as though something is missing from the world. Maybe the world is a little less without her; at least my world. There is a little less air. There is a quiet where there was noise.  All loss is its own entity. Sometimes there are no words for it; just air. And yet, it is a part of life.

Death is such an interesting phenomenon and part of life. It is one which many of us try to ignore or are afraid to talk about or separate this integral aspect of living from the rest of our lives. Yet it happens with all of us.
This occurs with the death of an idea, the death of a spouse or child, the death of a job or career, and the death of a dream. We watch death every day. The slow death of the grass and flowers after their blooms. The death of a robin after it bangs into a window or after a storm. The death of a beloved pet. The death of a houseplant or even the yearly death of tree leaves as they fall to the ground, fertilizing the earth to feed the next year’s growth.
Some deaths we feel more strongly than others. There is nothing more life-changing and sad, and no more significant loss than the death of a child. The death of a parent is a great loss. The death of a spouse you have spent your life with is a gut-wrenching loss.  Recently I experienced the death of a sibling. 
It is an odd experience losing a sibling; even one you might not have been close with. It is as if a little bit of the air you breathe is lost. Something is missing. I wasn’t particularly close with my sister. I loved her, but we were not so close. Our lives together were not easy or comforting most of the time. She could be very mean to me at times and was sometimes openly resentful of me and sometimes was resentful in a hidden way. I am not an easy person to be with. As an adult I understood, but the little girl in me still tried to please my older sister for years, until I gave up and realized that it wasn’t right for me to be around someone who didn’t particularly want to be with who I am as a person. And it also wasn’t good for her. And yet, when she transitioned, when she died recently, I felt it. She was only one year older than me.  We share blood.  We shared many memories. Good ones and bad ones. She was an integral part of my life. I feel as though something is missing from the world. Maybe the world is a little less without her; at least my world. There is a little less air. There is a quiet where there was noise. 
All loss is its own entity. Sometimes there are no words for it; just air. And yet, it is a part of life.

My soothing words of wisdom for the week is about settling in love.

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