The life lottery - who’s next? #081
I attended a funeral the week before last. Tod was the best friend of a close friend of mine. She was a genuine force of nature. Funny, articulate, irreverent, thoughtful, with a penchant for a glass or two of wine.
The turnout at her funeral was huge. I’d reckon on 250 mourners. I was part of the group who listened from outside of the packed chapel. Friends spoke of her fun, energy and her ability to bring people together. Her husband told stories of her kindness and forthright nature, making us chuckle when he lovingly said “in fact, this is probably the longest I’ve spoken without being interrupted in the last thirty years”.
People often say you should live the life that you’d like to hear spoken in your eulogy. My goodness, if anyone was to say half the things said about Tod about me, I know I would have lived a good and memorable life. No one was canonising her, just remembering a life well lived and loved.
It’s strange being the same age as old people…
As I looked around the assembled crowd, mingling and making small talk, someone quipped ”I’ve never seen so many blondes gathered in one place”.
What he meant was, bottle blondes, me included, staving off the grey. It was a fair assessment. The majority of the mourners, family aside, were probably in their 50s and 60s.
The appearance of the assembled group reminded me of the T Shirt I told you about in last week’s End Of The Road festival blog:“It’s strange being the same age as old people”
I also couldn’t help thinking a thought I often have in the company of my gorgeous friends and my family:
“Who’s next? Who is next in this lottery of life?”
Goodness knows.
Life affirming
I say this not to be maudlin. Au contraire. I think it’s strangely life affirming. It’s a reminder to me to get a wiggle on and enjoy life, as only you can, whilst doing your best to be kind and helpful to others as you go.
Of course, my lottery observation could be seen as callous, flip or cold. It could also be taken as a sad, depressing and scary thought. But that’s not my intention. My observation is just a truth. One of us, someone we know, or someone else we vaguely know will be next. We (probably) just don’t know who.
You
As ever, I’m interested in you.
Do you have these kinds of thoughts? How do they make you feel? What do they cause you to do?
My apologies if I seem obsessed with death, I really am not. Death is merely the price we pay for life I guess.
Pour yourself a glass of rosé, after all we’re nearly at the end of this sunny summer - or a delicious alcohol-free alternative, it is a Monday after all - and drop me a line, I’d love to hear from you.
And remember, you’re never going to be any younger than you are today, smile, breathe and enjoy the moment.
Until next week my friends,
Ruth
X
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Photo by Erik McClean on Unsplash
Yes it’s sad when someone our age dies, because we’re not old, not yet! I had a good friend die in June, just after I’d retired. I know she had lots of unfulfilled plans. We’d spoken about them often too. So sad.
Her death has certainly helped remind me to get a wiggle on with my own life, as you are with yours. Big hugs my friend xx
Obsessed with death? That makes two of us 😉 Seriously though, I think about it more than I should (which should be no surprise to you Ruth given my morbid book club!)
I definitely have an urgency about life - I’m not sure where it comes from but on balance I’m glad I have it. I’ve made a lot of good decisions from the POV of ‘well one day I’ll be dead so better do it now!’, but it does also bring a decent amount of overthinking and anxiety.