I thought that the year 2016 would be great. Aesthetically pleasing to the eye and even. Reality is more balanced. My eldest kitty, Boo, a voiciferous Chocolate Point Siamese, passed away at the beginning of the year. He was 16/17 years old. I received sad news about kidney disease on my other, now eldest, kitty, Dickens, a tabby/Maine Coon mix, and he now is starting a slow decline of health at the age of 15/16. We’ve lost notable musicians, actors, athletes throughout the year. Now, four years after my closest cousin passed away, her father has also passed in the same month of October. My uncle was a second father to me, and I’m still processing the loss.
It’s fall, a season of losing the green to make way for winter’s hibernation. Life is an endless parade of seasons–each one marking a new loss.
What has been gained? Ephemeral moments that are difficult to recollect because the grind of life continues through work, bills, travel. New friends, old friends, acquaintances, students, and colleagues. Life changes as each person finds a new course for their direction. A series of meetings and partings. Loss and moments of connection.
My closest aunt was seriously ill and hospitalized, and she’s a second mother to me. Although her illness was frightening, it allowed us to reconnect. Not that I thought the connection frayed. Connections persist long after words fade and meetings end. At least for me.
How can I connect my words to the void of emotion or sadness? Words cannot be enough. Words have power to illustrate devastation and loneliness, to injure and to heal. But sometimes…sometimes…silence is a gift. Listening and contemplating. Connecting to the Muse, clinging to hope, because politics, death, and religion seem to drive people apart, when they should do the opposite.
Why do the deaths of celebrities, artists, musicians, actors, writers matter? Because they reach out to connect and remind us that we are human.
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