I wanted to write about something , anything else , but all I could think about last night , and again this sunrise , was Chris , and the last Scripture on his Facebook page : “ I sleep together life . ”
A few weeks ago , when my girl Kelsey got the tragic news that her 16 - twelvemonth - old friend had died during surgical process to remove a nous tumour , she looked stunned as well as grief - stricken .
“ He was one of the most active people I knew , ” she enounce . “ I did n’t cognise he was sick . ”
Last dark at the memorial service , she get word he had been fighting cancer since 4th grade . I ’d only been acquaint with Chris through Kelsey – pictures she took , conversations recounted , glimpses at band performances .
But , believe me , seeing this adolescent with the longish raven hair , sweet smiling , the vitality that shone in his eyes , you would never have approximate .
Why is it that we so often need a brush with death , or even a dying time , to appreciate and love biography ?
Last nighttime , I realized I ’d been guilty of late : shamefaced of accentuate about life ( sempiternal farm chores ! news report deadlines ! ) , worrying about life ( Teen driver in the syndicate ! Swine Flu , the subsequence ! ) , complaining about life ( Why did I have to get bursitis in my hip joint now , with everything that needs to be done ? ! ) , and hasten through aliveness ( got ta feed the animals fast so I can go for a fast manner of walking and then – fast – get to work ! ) .
But for awhile now I have n’t genuinely been prize life , and sure not loving it enough . And somehow that makes the departure of this boy who write “ I love life ” feel even sadder , and even more unfair .
So last night I decided that today , so as not to feel like this natural endowment of life was waste on me , I would ditch my emphasis , worries and charge . I would slow down and savor life .
Today , so far , I ’ve experienced and loved –
• The sweet - tart taste of fresh - find fault blueberries on my cereal .
• How pure the morning melodic phrase felt against my tegument – not too warm , not too cool .
• The mottled gold sun playing over the trees and flowers .
• Talking with our cockamamy turkeys as they chase after me around their lea .
• How gentle my former sheep Marigold ’s woollen feel when I strike her neck .
• Sticking my nose into my maria Sophie ’s neck and inhaling her horsy scent .
• listen to Kelsey play The Offspring ’s tunes on her bass guitar .
I ’ll try hard to keep living and have intercourse life for the respite of today , and tomorrow , too . For Chris , and for myself .
~ Cherie
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