Death, Sunshine and Lumps

Yesterday I listened to an interview with a writer. The first line of his new book is: If you knew you only had ten minutes left to live, how would you spend them? (I may have the exact wording on that wrong) At that precise moment the sun had broken through the clouds and was dancing on the hood of my car. The trees were as green as they had ever been. The sky that perfect blue of a perfect spring day. I thought, I want to do this. I want to just look at the world.

That was yesterday. This morning my business partner and dearest friend told me she had a lump. She is at the doctor's office right now. Another friend told me an hour ago that the kidney cancer he has been fighting has spread to his spine and that it is not a matter of if anymore, just when.

It seems that death is much with me. Since my father died a few years ago it seems that someone I love is always ending. I know it is this way for everyone who loves, unless they are first. Somehow the universal, timeless fact of death does not make it any easier. The fact that all before me have died, does not make the prospect less bitter. More of my line lies in the ground then stands above it. Yet I do not wish to join them anytime soon. Even more, I do not want anyone else I love to go into that dark night.