Several times today I kept being reminded of how unreasonable, cruel and devastating a terminal illness can be.
D and I saw the latest episode from Grey’s Anatomy. The death of that little girl while her father was holding her in his arms and Izzie collapsing after chemo was so, so sad. I kept saying to myself “think happy thoughts, think happy thoughts!” so I wouldn’t cry.
While I was grocery shopping this afternoon, near the fruit aisle I overheard a conversation between a mother-daughter pair. The girl, in her 20s or 30s,a blue bandana covering her head, had the most dramatic grey-blue eyes I have ever seen. “Mom, I have three months to live. Let’s get some booze.”
I had to leave right that instant because the look on the look on the mother’s face was excruciating and even if this whole thing lasted for just 30 seconds I could feel the tears building up in my throat.
What topped it all was Jo’s post.
You see what I mean now? Don’t you consider yourself lucky to be able to read this knowing that there’s a high chance you’ll still be around for Christmas?
Why are we such infatuated and conceited creatures that only when seeing the suffering of others realize how precious life is and how truly blessed we are just to be alive?