The bumps in this road

October 13, 2014
Day 166

Andy's Uncle Fai died yesterday morning in the ICU.  They decided to let him go if he had another cardiac arrest, so morphine replaced all the other meds he was on, and his body soon released his spirit.

I didn't post this here, but on Friday, two days earlier, my Aunt Nancy died as well.  She'd been dying at home of cancer, and finally succumbed to the disease, passing away peacefully at home surrounded by family.

By the time this month ends, I'll be at the halfway point of my journey from 39 to 40, and it's already clear I've found some bumps in the road.  For Aunt Nancy and Uncle Fai though, the road they'd lived on their whole lives suddenly ended.  Bumps or sharp turns are no longer an issue.  Nothing is an issue.  They're just gone, on to their reward in Heaven.

Over and over again throughout this year-long journal, I've talked about perspective.  Sometimes I've framed it within the blog itself, and other times I've just used it as a label or hashtag.  Perspective is everything, and on this journey I'm on right now from age 39 to 40, my perspective is ever changing. 

So often this year, like I am today, I'm writing about my own journey, but find myself thinking about the journeys others are on as well.  I think about Nancy and Fai who have now reached the bliss of paradise, as well as all my family and friends in the great beyond.  I think also about my family and friends who are struggling in different ways, with depression, addiction, AIDS, Lyme Disease, diabetes, Parkinson's, skin issues, knee-replacement surgery, and other ailments or difficulties. 

My perspective will always be skewed by what I alone can see, hear, taste, touch, and smell.  My body and mind dictate how I experience life on Earth, and I won't be able to fully understand what my family and friends are dealing with, because I don't walk in their shoes or live their life.  Still, by our very nature as caring human beings, we hear enough of the pain of others, we see them dying in the hospital, and we feel their grasp of reality slowly slipping away from them.

The bumps in this road are often scary.  They jar me from my peace, forcing me to reanalyze the situations around me.  My perspective is always changing, and my understanding of the road itself is forever reshaped with each passing day.  The bumps are many, the sharp, winding turns can be frightening, and the view is forever changing, but this is my road.  I've been on it now for almost 40 years, and I've learned a few things about the journey. 

Life is hard sometimes, very hard.  The bumps don't get any easier, even though I grow more and more used to them, and the road is mine until the very end.  When that end will be, I don't know.  In the mean time, I appreciate the view, and I learn to expect the bumps.  There's no steering around them, but knowing they'll be there?  Well, it makes going over them just a little bit easier to accept.