A few weeks ago, I read a story about a young woman who is choosing a physician-assisted suicide.
I read it a few times, actually.
She is choosing when and where and will be surrounded by her loved ones, after deciding the pain of her terminal illness was getting to be too much. I realize there is a lot in that, and what’s been on my mind, is not so much the politics or the religious aspects of such a decision.
More so, the power of her choice.
I think about how hard all of that is.
And yesterday, I felt pretty whooped — physically, emotionally.
Busy week in the kitchen, mixed with a whirlwind of everything else.
I sat in the deep sadness of this young woman’s situation. Her life, and having to choose something so terribly difficult before her peers and family.
I sat and wondered if I had one week to take all of life in, what would I notice?
I let it sink in a little deeper, and deeper. Until my eyes started to water, and I looked up at a blue sky, with a few scattered clouds. I thought about how beautiful and rich everything was. There were some birds involved, a slight cool breeze and the sound of crunchy leaves blowing against concrete.
I sat for a minute to take it in. To simply, notice.
I let in the good and the bad. My absolute joy mixed with my worst pain.
The faces of the poor and the sick, and the butterflies of having that first kiss.
Everything came flooding back into my world.
How lucky I am.
Though I find myself existing in all sorts of worlds, I think about the fact that I was able to live in such a great love, and to also experience the great sadness of loss.
You realize that the world starts feeling like a t-shirt that has stretched beyond repair. And when you put it on, it is familiar but it doesn’t cling to you like it used to. You hold loosely to your attachments because time tells you that things come and go. That there are good years, and bad years and in between years.
I’ve personified time as my friend, as of late. I hold it close and thank it for giving me space in this little baby blue world.
I accept all these hard decisions. To move on in this world and the next, and to find that great peace we’re all constantly working to live in.
I think about her, and the fact that she’ll be surrounded by her family and loved ones. My heart breaks. But there is light all over when that happens, pouring into the cracks.
peace be with you, Brittany. sending my love and God’s love and warm and fuzzies your way. Thank you for your light.