Wednesday, December 7, 2011

Fragile

"My happiness is so great at this moment I wish I could die...because in the midst of happiness grows a seeds of unhappiness. Happiness consumes itself like a flame. It can't burn forever; sooner or later it must die. And that knowledge destroys the joy for me, right at its peak."  

from A Dream Play by August Strindberg

When I first read this play in college, I thought it was so depressing... and yet so wise. Or maybe just insightful, because the older I get, the more this is how I subconsciously think. When I am the most happiest, I am the most aware of how happy I am - of how grateful I am for the people and things in my life, of how blessed I am - but also the most aware I am of how fragile those things are, and how quickly they can be taken away.

It's been three years this month that my friend died suddenly, brutally. This week, I got news that a dear man who has greatly influenced our oldest daughter, died Sunday morning. Another beautiful, amazing woman who taught my youngest daughter in pre-school and attended Bible study with me was diagnosed with stage three ovarian cancer. Another mother I adore got word that her daughter has not long to live.

It was a rough weekend.

And in their pain I am acutely aware of my own happiness - of my family, my kids that are my whole world and my husband who is the love of my life, the every breath I take. My parents who make aging look easy and graceful. My friends who stick by me through everything, who encourage me and love me. My opportunity to go to school, to write. The feeling of being healthy and pain-free. The pile of presents under the Christmas tree.

In the store today I saw an elderly couple shopping together, lovingly bickering over cuts of meat and loaves of bread, and my heart broke for the incredible woman who just lost her husband this Sunday and now faces a future that does not involve growing old with him. And the thought of the possibility of not growing old with my own husband makes my heart clench.

There is a part of me that thinks this is ridiculous of me - to spoil joy with sorrow that isn't even real. And  yet, another part of me thinks this is how it should be - how it must be. To not be aware of how every day is not a given, every tomorrow is not destined, is to not fully appreciate how miraculous life is. It's not really that I am letting loss taint my happiness, so much as great happiness comes at the price of acknowledging the possibility of loss.

That's my philosophizing for the week. This is the kind of thing my mind rumbles around when I stop writing. Too much living in the real world and not enough in the imaginary one, I suppose.

6 comments:

  1. But living in the real world makes our imaginary ones that much more precious and vice versa.

    I can't imagine not growing old with my husband. Both of my grandma's died at just around the age of fifty, and the older I get, the younger that seems.

    I wrote a book about a girl who dies and her friends' search for her, and it was inspired by all the people I know who died WAY too young. high school age. Some on purpose, some in accidents, some to themselves.

    But it does make each and every moment we have with the people we love that much more precious.


    Also. It is so BEAUTIFUL here :D

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  2. Yes and yes. So sorry for the loss and heartache.

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  3. I'm so sorry to hear about all the heartbreak.

    I totally get what you're saying. I've been accused of being a terrible pessimist but I believe it's just that i figured out early in life that happiness can't be had without sadness and nothing's permanent so feel it when you can.

    That quote is devastating.

    In a good way.

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  4. I'm so sorry to hear about all the heartbreak.

    I totally get what you're saying. I've been accused of being a terrible pessimist but I believe it's just that i figured out early in life that happiness can't be had without sadness and nothing's permanent so feel it when you can.

    That quote is devastating.

    In a good way.

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  5. It is so hard to see such pain in others, and to also realize that it could come to our homes so very easily.

    I love this line: "To not be aware of how every day is not a given, every tomorrow is not destined, is to not fully appreciate how miraculous life is."

    I agree. Completely. I, too, am acutely aware of how many wonderful blessings I have, and when I think of losing them, a sort of panic overtakes me. But I think it is better to be aware of the potential for loss that makes us appreciate the blessing so much more. And it also grounds us in reality. Life is harsh. But it is also beautiful. You cannot have one without the other, I suppose.

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  6. You've had a hard week:(
    I think we tend to do what you are doing as we age--we recognize more how we are blessed and the losses around us make us look at each other closer. I look at my husband and despite our past years of pain, I am so happy to be at his side and him at mine. I want to spend 40 more years with him and when I think of that not being a possibility, like you, my heart clenches. But this is life, isn't it? So we love and hold close what we have.

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