reflective

When I was in college, so many of my psych classes talked about how, in your 30s, you realize the mortality of life. Man, this is true. Every death is hitting me hard. On some days, I feel like I'm burdened under the weight of it. I sit silent, thinking of exact, precise moments of memory I have of them. My uncle. Brian's grandmother. My grandfather. Friends that are gone. You feel invincible until you are sucker-punched in the gut with a loss, and then you grapple with what remains. You grapple with "what if's". You grapple with how your very own life would change if you'd encounter death in your very own household. You pray prayers petitioning "never". Oy.

Today, I am just sad. I am just missing people. I watch my very own kids, and I'm so thankful for them. They provide a diversion, a distraction. Shoes need to be tied, double knotted, actually; faces need to be wiped; babies needed to be pushed in swings and reminded to go down feet first FEET FIRST!!! down the slide; the floor under the kitchen table needs to be wiped up, and then wiped up again (and again). Life marches on, but those lives were here at one point. At some point, Brian's grandmother was young and full of life and was a mommy to little kids. At some point, her laughter filled a room and there were no thoughts of it ever being gone.

Brian's mom once told me that grandma said to her, whispering, privately, "You know, I have never felt old. Even now, even in my 70s, I still feel like a young girl. Like, when did this all happen? When did life happen? How is it that my kids are grown and I'm old?"

I think about this frequently, and try to invocate inspiration to relish my time here. But, usually it just leaves me sad - that someday, I will be gone, too. That these early days with my kids will pass, and there will be no more shoes to tie, teeth to brush, swings to push, or floors to wipe.

I am in my 30s, and boy, am I grappling with mortality in a major way. My psych classes were spot on.