The infrequent morbid blogger has a post.
About death.
Again.
Well, about life.
But prompted by a death.
Again.
Another patient.
This time it was the funeral.
I "squeezed" it into my schedule today.
In between my other patients.
Who are alive.
For now.
A long life lived.
Taken away from many friends and enormous amounts of family.
Grandchildren galore, children abound.
Nieces and nephews.
Great-grandchildren.
The pews were full.
Siblings.
Two of them.
Sat in back.
Of all the others.
Should they be up front?
Should they mourn the most?
Rare to see siblings alive at this age.
They know more.
I thought.
They are the family.
I know.
The ones who were there first.
I cried.
The ones who hurt the most.
Too many times a day goes by.
A week.
Or two.
Who have I talked to today.
Sometimes it is 3 or 4.
Sometimes it is none.
Rarely.
But sometimes.
The past will always bind us together.
While the present keeps us apart.
Physically.
But not emotionally.
Or spiritually.
That can not be changed.
By pews in the church.
Or death.
and...I find it even more powerful and moving and motivating (each day) that we are there for each other as the next generation of sprightly "hartigans" plows through - we are there for each other in roles that (perhaps) are more obvious and have more relevance and are (perhaps) easier than the support roles we played for each other back in the good ol' days....when we were a measly force of "just" 9. Measly.....tiny....quaint.
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