Life goes on
I've had a super bad flu that continues to haunt me 10 days later. Missed three days of work and then I crawled back because I was out of sick days and into my vacation days. Maybe I went back too soon, but I can't stay sick in bed forever. Life goes on, no matter what. Rent and bills have to be paid, cats need to be fed and watered, the house begs to be picked up and sorta cleaned, the car screams for gas, laundry itches to be done, potted plants holler for water, and now the grass (weeds, really) must be mowed before I get code-violated by a neighbor tired of looking at my unkempt yard. And still I don't feel well. I would love to go to Hawaii and lay in a comfy outdoor lounger on the white sands and have a handsome young Hawaiian man bring me margaritas until I'm so dizzy I forget my name.
But real life isn't like that. In real life you put your big girl panties on and go grocery shopping and to work and do errands even when you wanna hide under the bed and let the world stop just for a little while, just until you feel like a fully functioning human again.
Yesterday I remembered Doris Sano who worked in the library with me, who was the sweetest, kindest, most gentle soul I have ever met. She was found dead in her car in her driveway last year, with her groceries on the passenger seat. No one knows what happened. Her work desk at the library remained untouched for a while, but then another colleague began using it, and now that the library is undergoing a major spatial transition, her desk is gone. No more reminders of Doris, and it made me sad because no matter how special we are, no matter how much we see ourselves as unique and extraordinary individuals, when we die, life goes on like we never existed. Our space on this planet is gone. We are only remembered by the people who loved or cared about us in some way.
I think about stuff like this when I experience a severe illness because I'm getting older and things like the flu can kill an elderly citizen. I never believed that until I was slammed with the nastiest flu in the universe about four years ago. I felt like I had one foot in the grave it was so strong and overwhelming. I hate to admit to fragility but I can see it at work -- how the younger staff members are much better at handling the immense changes to the library building, to our evolving responsibilities, and to the technologies that are so much an integral part of how a library works internally and externally.
Life goes on, with or without me. I just have to decide how and where I want to be. I don't want to leave this planet with unfulfilled dreams. It's way past time for me to put my big girl panties on and go live the life I always wanted but didn't know how to get.
Still can't figure out how to get there from here, but I'm only gonna live once so what am I waiting for . . . .
But real life isn't like that. In real life you put your big girl panties on and go grocery shopping and to work and do errands even when you wanna hide under the bed and let the world stop just for a little while, just until you feel like a fully functioning human again.
Yesterday I remembered Doris Sano who worked in the library with me, who was the sweetest, kindest, most gentle soul I have ever met. She was found dead in her car in her driveway last year, with her groceries on the passenger seat. No one knows what happened. Her work desk at the library remained untouched for a while, but then another colleague began using it, and now that the library is undergoing a major spatial transition, her desk is gone. No more reminders of Doris, and it made me sad because no matter how special we are, no matter how much we see ourselves as unique and extraordinary individuals, when we die, life goes on like we never existed. Our space on this planet is gone. We are only remembered by the people who loved or cared about us in some way.
I think about stuff like this when I experience a severe illness because I'm getting older and things like the flu can kill an elderly citizen. I never believed that until I was slammed with the nastiest flu in the universe about four years ago. I felt like I had one foot in the grave it was so strong and overwhelming. I hate to admit to fragility but I can see it at work -- how the younger staff members are much better at handling the immense changes to the library building, to our evolving responsibilities, and to the technologies that are so much an integral part of how a library works internally and externally.
Life goes on, with or without me. I just have to decide how and where I want to be. I don't want to leave this planet with unfulfilled dreams. It's way past time for me to put my big girl panties on and go live the life I always wanted but didn't know how to get.
Still can't figure out how to get there from here, but I'm only gonna live once so what am I waiting for . . . .
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