recent thoughts on mortality

I think, in a way, that when we hurt for the death of others it isn't only our pain for them, but our pain for ourselves. That said, I have had, albeit tangentially, a rough weekend with regard to the tragic and untimely death of others. Not old others, but young, healthy, good people. And I think what hurts most is my inability to offer anything concrete against their gaping loss.

Saturday night. I arrive and the dogs are going crazy barking, and growling. I stand still in the late evening light: the blue glow that rises as if from the earth itself instead of from the fringe of sky still illuminated by the last of the sun's rays. I don't fear, but I wait for the labrador to remember me, from the day before. I let the growling go on. The door opens on a silhouette that comforts me. I don't know it then, but I learn that my presence is even more of a comfort.

There was a phone call, I am told. There was a friend, assassinated over lunch. No apparent reason, except for his hard-earned wealth in a small town. I listen. I can't do anything but offer my arms, an embrace against the sorrow.

In the morning, not really morning any more I get a worried phone call. Lani? I was worried when you didn't answer, says my mother. Our dear friends' daughter, just past 30, about to graduate from a prestigious medical school, and by all accounts a wonderful daughter died this morning. She was run over by a car, accidentally it would seem. I don't have any words to offer. I can do nothing but come home and reassure my mother, again. I am safe, for now. I can't promise any more than that.