Driving over to my mother’s in the rain, my hands gripping the steering wheel, I kept thinking, don’t crash, don’t crash and then I noticed my death sitting next to me and I relaxed.
I don’t know when I’m going to die and yes, it could happen today. There is no rule that says tragedy can’t strike twice. We make up that rule to deal with the quaking land under our feet. So I’m driving and I feel death sitting next to me and I relax because I see that it could happen right now – I could crash and die. I could crash and two of my kids could die. I could crash and kill someone else.
Oddly this brings me comfort. In the uncertainty, I find peace. I have less control over this than I desire but it gives me room to maneuver the things I do have control over. I turn my head, glancing to the back of the car for a moment and say to my children...
"You are a gift to me from God. I am grateful and lucky that you are here with me.
Now will you please stop arguing and share the damn goldfish!"
A subtle and unsettling gift from grief followed with a dose of reality.
Pallas and my sister's children