It's life, Jim - but not as we know it
Not so very long ago, an old friend of mine from school passed away. It was sudden. It was unexpected. She was 32, only a few months older than myself.
The funeral was over a week ago, but to say that this loss has knocked me for six is a bit of an understatement.
Somehow, even though death is the inevitable conclusion of life, you don't expect to have to bury your friends. I always thought that they would be burying me, not the other way around.
It's been a strange few weeks. Weeks in which I've thought really darned hard about who I am and who I want to be; the friendships I have, and the way I manage them; and the people in my life and how much they mean to me.
Life is short. Life is brutally, tragically short. When every moment may be the very last one you come to realise that every moment not spent trying to be all that you can be is a criminal waste. My friend's obituary in the order of service was an expose of a woman of talent and intellect who never quite settled to anything, never quite 'fulfilled her potential'. And yet that seems so unfair, because really, she was the only person in a position to judge if she fulfilled her potential or not.
But I digress.
I realise I have been a very poor friend to many people. I do not keep in contact well. I do not attend events due to mental health issues. I chicken out of things because people who may have issues with me may be there. I fight and I struggle and I war against things that in the great grand scheme of things do not matter, and ignore the things that do.
Ultimately, this cannot stand.
My tribute to my friend? A philosophy change of sorts. To open up, to lay myself on the line. To let the people I love know that I do so, at every chance I get. To have the courage to live in the now and bugger the consequences because when we may not have tomorrow the consequences are irrelevant. To see people more, to fear less, to keep fighting for the things that matter, and not for the ones that don't. To reach for the stars, to touch the sky. To live this life, because it's all I've got and no one else can live it for me.
For Louisa. No regrets.
The funeral was over a week ago, but to say that this loss has knocked me for six is a bit of an understatement.
Somehow, even though death is the inevitable conclusion of life, you don't expect to have to bury your friends. I always thought that they would be burying me, not the other way around.
It's been a strange few weeks. Weeks in which I've thought really darned hard about who I am and who I want to be; the friendships I have, and the way I manage them; and the people in my life and how much they mean to me.
Life is short. Life is brutally, tragically short. When every moment may be the very last one you come to realise that every moment not spent trying to be all that you can be is a criminal waste. My friend's obituary in the order of service was an expose of a woman of talent and intellect who never quite settled to anything, never quite 'fulfilled her potential'. And yet that seems so unfair, because really, she was the only person in a position to judge if she fulfilled her potential or not.
But I digress.
I realise I have been a very poor friend to many people. I do not keep in contact well. I do not attend events due to mental health issues. I chicken out of things because people who may have issues with me may be there. I fight and I struggle and I war against things that in the great grand scheme of things do not matter, and ignore the things that do.
Ultimately, this cannot stand.
My tribute to my friend? A philosophy change of sorts. To open up, to lay myself on the line. To let the people I love know that I do so, at every chance I get. To have the courage to live in the now and bugger the consequences because when we may not have tomorrow the consequences are irrelevant. To see people more, to fear less, to keep fighting for the things that matter, and not for the ones that don't. To reach for the stars, to touch the sky. To live this life, because it's all I've got and no one else can live it for me.
For Louisa. No regrets.