As I know it
One Tuesday morning I woke up with an idea to visit one of my ex-coworkers. I would be reminded on that day, how precious time and life really are
Good morning, this is Christine.” Christine was one of the receptionists at the clinic where I used to work. My memories of her reflected a chatty red head smiling as she took a break and waltzed off to a room as she prepared herself to breastpump for her newborn.
“Hi Christine, does Beth still work in billing?
“Oh, this is Sharron, I used to work there?
“Hey, Beth is the manager now, you know Michelle passed?”
My silence stood for a few seconds, shocked and thinking of the state of Michelle’s 16-year-old daughter and her very compassionate husband.
“When?” I asked
“ In April.” It was now July.
Our conversation ended five minutes later, with her giving me her home phone number and the promise that I will be there to visit later.
Michelle was a very down to earth, blunt, don’t feel sorry for me, I got it 51-year-old woman. Whenever I had a question to ask her regarding work, I would often walk in on her jamming to popular 70’s music ( on occasion it would be quite loud). She had been fighting ovarian cancer for at least two years. In the end her body stop responding to treatment.
To tell you that there was only a modicum of feelings surrounding her loss, that would be a lie. Michelle and I had a good boss and employee relationship, but it was really what her death represented…life and then it is over.
I am 30 years old, which means for the last thirty years I have been falling asleep at night and waking up every morning. I unfortunately have envisioned life as this substance filled up in this tall cylindrical glass container, which stays full most of time. Consequently, putting off very important things thinking I can do them tomorrow or better yet not laughing, dancing or enjoying the moment enough. At times, (more often than not), I have woke up forgetting to give thanks, working toward goals that I would love to have accomplished or started on before my departure.
After taking care of my mother who passed at the age of fifty-one, attending my grandmother’s funeral less than two years later and having worked in a hospital, watching the inevitable expiration of human life, you would think I would take life more serious than I have.
While some may say, “Oh, you’re only thirty”, what I have come to know is that age is very insignificant when it comes to death. We see it every day on the news, hear about it word of mouth from others who tell us of the unfortunate events that they know of or heard. Whether I am thirty of eighty the general statement that is often used “Time is precious”, echoes in the back of my mind reminding me, when my time is up it is really up. Therefore regardless of my age, I need to count my blessings, work on my goals, laugh and dance when I can and realize that the imaginary cylindrical glass container that is filled up with life is depleting slowly but surely. I must remember life as I know it, one day at a time.
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