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That Which Becomes No One (Yet It Becomes Us All)
Have you ever been sick and tired something? Of doing something? Or more like attending something?
I'd be remiss if I don't talk about the subject that I'm going to discuss because it dominated the month of November for myself and many others. It's something that becomes no one, but at the same time, if we live long enough it becomes us all.
I get comments many times about my taking the initiative to write my first book "A Titan of a Man" about my Dad. I got some flack in the beginning after I published it. Even before I published it I had my own misgivings about it. One worry was that Armaggedon would come before I finished it. Another was something would happen to my father before he got to read it. However, in the end, I did it. I'm so glad I did it, while my father was alive. He's proud, I'm proud.
About a month ago, a friend asked me to write her mother's story. She told me about an incidence that happened to her mother. I mulled the story over in my mind, and as a prelude to getting my friends mother's book started, I composed a short article, and the Pasadena Star News published it.
Three days after the article was published, my friend's mother died. I should say though that her mother was like a dear mother to me. So I will call her "Dear Mother" from now on. Dear Mother died on me. Not on me literally, but she died. I never got to write her book, to hear more of her stories and it breaks my heart.
Dear Mother's funeral was one of two I attended in November. There was one more but I couldn't go because I was out of town, and the other was my great uncle who lived back East and I couldn't afford to travel. This is probably the 15th funeral I have attended this year, maybe it's more.
I couldn't help but think about this stupid movie I only saw parts of one day while it played on TV, Death Becomes Her. That kind of thing is only true on the big screen, but not in real life.
In reality death "becomes" no one. Even the worse person on this earth, probably has someone who mourns or would mourn his or her death, even if it is or would be just a mother who birthed the bad seed.
Yet, if we live long enough, death is something that will overtake us all. Dead is something we could become at any moment in this fragile world in which we live.
Are you writing your book? Are you living a book worthy life? What's that? A life filled with generousity, kindness, enjoying good moments like the trees naked and bare, days of clean, crisp air, smiles, and appreciating being momentarily and currently above that which becomes no one. You know what I mean.
Copyright 2005 Paula Lonergan.
All rights reserved.