Gradations of Sadness

My father is dying.

There, I said it. I'm not saying this to make anyone feel bad or elicit sympathy. I'm just stating a fact. It's the crappy, but expected, part of life. We lose those we love, or they lose us. My father is 90 years old, and his heart is finally failing. I, for one, am incredibly grateful to have had him this long. Given his history of heart problems, the last 35 years have been a gift.

I spent some time with him this past weekend, saying goodbye, enjoying his company and being inspired by his grace. Selfishly, it had not occurred to me that the opportunity to say goodbye would mean as much to him as it did to me. There was lots of smiling and laughing.

On day 2 of my visit, I was shaken out my own emotional drama by some completely unexpected news. The closest friend of one of my dearest, oldest friends had suddenly died, at 54. He apparently suffered a massive heart attack, and was found lying at a bus stop in Chicago. I had met him once, and been completely charmed and won over. He was a very special man, and an integral part of my friend's life.

Any sadness I felt was obliterated by the pain I must imagine my friend experiencing. She is devastated by the sudden, unexpected, untimely loss of her closest friend on the planet. Any sense of pain I feel pales in comparison to what she must be going through. I am truly heartbroken for her.

I'm feeling a gentle tug of sadness, a very slow pulling away of the life force known as my father. It feels right; the impending loss is appropriate. My father has lived a long and happy life, seeing joy all along the way and sharing it with his family. We've been blessed to have him for 90 years, far more than I ever expected. This Daddy's Girl is never going to be ready to lose the love of my life, but it's part of the human existence. While sad, it's very manageable.

In contrast, Romy has had her closest, dearest friend yanked suddenly away from her, with no warning, no time to prepare. His life ended prematurely, before he was done. She has incurred a gaping wound of pain and grief, and is trying to find her way through it. Her sadness is sharp and violent, a swift wrenching loss. I can't begin to imagine the turmoil she is experiencing. I wish I could do something to make it better for her, but I can't. All I can do is let her know I'm here.

I guess the lesson here is that there is perspective in everything. And I am feeling incredibly lucky.