one less person
My Aunt Suzanne died on Monday after a long struggle with ALS. She was 65. Her last two years were particularly devastating; my cousin said she had never seen someone suffer so much. For the end of Aunt Suzanne's suffering, I am thankful. As for the pain and drama associated with her hateful last will--in which she banned her eldest daughter and brother from her funeral--I am thankful I have Buddhism and some fancy therapy under my belt.
Because of work, I missed today's funeral--I just couldn't be absent for two days from a job that's less than a month old. Rather, I decided I was more useful helping clean my aunt's house, organize photos, cook, and generally take the pressure off of my cousin so she could get back to work and her family. Funerals aren't my thing anyway. So I fly out tomorrow afternoon to lend my labor and love. I imagine I'll be doing as much listening/soothing as working, which is fine too. And while a weekend in Oklahoma City isn't exactly my cup of tea, I am pretty pleased to see my cousin and her family.
Tonight I'd really like to meditate on the subject of life and death. There is one less person I know in the world, and that merits some thought.
Because of work, I missed today's funeral--I just couldn't be absent for two days from a job that's less than a month old. Rather, I decided I was more useful helping clean my aunt's house, organize photos, cook, and generally take the pressure off of my cousin so she could get back to work and her family. Funerals aren't my thing anyway. So I fly out tomorrow afternoon to lend my labor and love. I imagine I'll be doing as much listening/soothing as working, which is fine too. And while a weekend in Oklahoma City isn't exactly my cup of tea, I am pretty pleased to see my cousin and her family.
Tonight I'd really like to meditate on the subject of life and death. There is one less person I know in the world, and that merits some thought.