Y'know, there are no guarantees in life. That is not breaking news, but the reality of it just stinks. No one promises that we will grow old to see our children graduate, marry, procreate. There is no security in knowing that our friends will always be only a phone call away. Our favorite authors cannot be depended upon to roll out our favorite characters on a regular schedule nor can we depend on favored entertainers to perform for us. And summer cannot go on "just one more week."
Two weeks ago I could never imagine such a drastic change in my own life. When I discovered that one of my oldest (not chronologically; she's actually mush younger than I) friends was vacationing in the hospital for her third visit in a month, I immediately hit the highway in hopes of offering positive energy and words of encouragement. Jamie was diagnosed not long after I was, but with a much more emphatic announcement. I actually felt guilty visiting her, knowing that my MS had never reached the level that Jamie's achieved; And I have always been a straight A student. Jamie rapidly graduated to wheelchair status. A former gymnast, Jamie always fascinated me with her elegant physical abilities. Her beauty captured the hearts of many young fellows over the years and she has been blessed with two wonderful sons. Her MS journey, though, lead to conflicts that keeps her away from her son's own athletic performances and has imprisoned her in her own home. And now, after her third stay in the hospital with some silly infection and a severe round of dehydration, Hospice has been invited into her home to "make her more comfortable". I, as does her family, pray for a miracle.
In no way as personal or important to me, my need for a good laugh in the face of this sad news cannot be satisfied with the more recent reports of a death in the entertainment world. The most animated, entertaining man on earth succumbed to suicide yesterday. I needed to listen to Robin Williams. He was my balm when nothing else could lighten the darkness of depression. Ironically the reason for his death is a diagnosis of severe depression. How can the funniest man alive be depressed? It baffles, confuses, and angers me. It doesn't feel right to be angry at the deceased or down trodden, but I just can't help it. It is my sincere belief that individuals who take their life have no idea what effect their actions have on the rest of the world and I also truly believe that they have no right to force reactions upon others. Did Robin Williams actually believe that his life was not important to people who depended upon him for levity? did he view himself as useless to the human race? Did he realize what his death would do to his family and fans? Did he not know how much his existence is needed?
Jamie could use a good laugh right now.
Not many of you will see my next point as equally severe as illness and death, and it is not; but in the world of depression, it is "up there" for me. Yesterday, prior to hearing the RW news, I made my annual visit to the local ERC (Educational Resource Center) to acquire a new grade book for the new school year. I am not looking forward to going back to school this year and I am trying hard to find that first day of school feeling. After 33 years, it is not coming as willingly as it usually does. I just cannot get my optimistic vibes in gear, even with the purchase of new shoes and the promise of a rejuvenating pre-school pedicure. It's just not coming.
I could use a good laugh right now.
Just needed to vent.
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