Marching

To those who face the frailties of life and to those who have transitioned elsewhere…

We're marching to our deaths at birth
Then unaware of Life's propose.
Plans made, plans dashed, let's laugh with mirth
As march we must to last repose.

When first we view our life's true end,
Made real by year, yet not by day,
We vow to hoard, vow not to spend
More time in idleness, in play.

Not 'til our bodies tell us true,
Our end looms close, looms real,
Do we admit, "I wish I knew–
Please, one more spin around your wheel."

This knowledge brings its own reward, 
Knits us to others suff'ring too.
As I face down my ailments hard,
I understand how so do you.

In the past month one of my blogosphere contacts has died, and another faces a tough cancer battle. Here in the physical world a good friend struggles to walk, a second puts on a good face as her husband remisses into cancer, a third breathes slightly easier that her sister didn’t die last week, and our closest friends both battle mystery ailments. On a personal note, sciatica has said, “Remember me? I think I’m gonna stick around this time,” and my blood pressure has decided to ignore all my meds. I really can’t think of one good reason for the fact I want to grab every single person between 40 and 60 and declare insistently to their startled face, “WAKE UP! QUIT WASTING YOUR TIME! DO WHAT YOU WANT, DO WHAT YOU MUST, BUT FOR GOD’S SAKE QUIT DOING WHAT YOU DON’T WANT, WHAT YOU KNOW IS WRONG FOR YOU!!” Yeah, I wouldn’t have listened to me either. I don’t really have regrets. It’s just the shock with how quickly it changed in the past five years. There’s no way to prepare for it–but for some reason, perhaps the shock, I want to turn around a tell someone how I never realized what this was going to be like. Sure, I’ve seen folks navigate these years, but for some reason I never saw the road that connects I’m Okay Right Now with I Am Really Old And About To Die. And I really wish I had.