I made it all through the weekend and through a really tough day today, and here I sit blubbering after a father-centered How I Met Your Mother episode, even though it's a story that doesn't resemble mine in the least. I just ate almost an entire package of Trader Joe's Almond Clusters, and some lovely wine, and I'm totally exhausted.
It's just... my parents got so old, so fast! How did I miss that? I mean, I knew they were getting older, I've seen the difference over the years, but it still somehow seems so surprising.
I used to think about people getting old, and wonder- the very last time they skied, or did a cartwheel, or ran, or skipped, or played catch... did they know it was their last time? Would that make a difference? A major reason that I got the surgery two years ago now was so that I could run again before I die. That's so grim, I know! But I'm not ready to do things for the last time. Already I'm facing the mortality of my eyes- all my life I thought it would be so cool to have glasses, and now I do, and I can never again not need glasses. Same thing- I totally knew it was happening, but now that it's happened, and can't un-happen, it seems so shocking and sudden.
Today at work we met as a staff to plan for our pastor's absence, as he is having bypass surgery. We all prayed along as our Parochial Vicar anointed him. Outside, snow fell and interrupted our new spring, and I felt deflated, and adrift. I know I'm not the first or last to face mortality- mine or my own. I'm not leaning to the optimistic, nor the pessimistic side... both seem tempting, but both seem, well, too easy.
We read this Sunday's Gospel, where the woman at the well said “I know that the Messiah is coming, the one called the Christ; when he comes, he will tell us everything.” I thought, yes, that is what I want- I want to know how it all turns out. Also, I want to stop the clock.