Young & Old

Thursday, January 26, 2012: I've been to three funerals in the past month and that's three too many. The first was a life taken by her own hand, much too soon, with two little granddaughters to live for. The second was merciful, as age was robbing the spirit of its essence. And the third - just yesterday - was a tender life taken before it was even begun. I have cried for the young and the old, for the family left behind, and for all the little (and big) regrets we humans carry with us all the time, whether we know it or not. It's painful, these self-reflections, these "what ifs" and "should haves". But, it's also very comforting to see and feel the hope that remains in the survivors - and in all of us - and that we have to keep going, no matter how hard or lonely or sad we are. My prayers overflow for all of us left behind.

The experts say it takes two weeks to form a habit. Somedays I believe it and somedays I don't, especially when it comes to exercising. I read a quote today - I think it was on Facebook - about exercise: that you will always be tired in the morning and at noon and at night, so just do it and "quit your grumbling" (did Mrs. Potts say that??). I grumble a lot these mornings. For one thing, I had such a nice little routine going - wake up at 6:00, read my scriptures, say my prayers, get Janessa out of bed, take my shower and get ready for the day, all before 7:30. Now, I've added exercise to the mix and it's messing everything up! The last few mornings, I've driven J to school with no makeup and a mop of out-of-control hair. This morning, I hadn't even showered and was wearing my penguin jammies in the car. It's that 30-minute, 2-mile "walk" (in front of my TV) that has put my schedule upside down. I even forgot to say my prayers, which got lost somewhere after the 2 miles and cleaning the bathroom and gathering the garbage (garbage day tomorrow morning) and mopping the floors and vacuuming up dead poinsettia leaves and doing the dishes and starting the laundry. I finally talked to Heavenly Father over my lunch...and I cried. I cried for all the sweet babies that are too precious to stay on earth. I cried for all the moms that fall in their bathtubs and get bruised and broken. I cried for all the sisters that are sad and all the brothers that are frustrated and all the husbands who are overworked and all the people wishing their lives away. And I'm grousing (didn't Mrs. Potts say that, too?) about 30 minutes of pumping my arms and stretching my legs and feeling the sweat trickle down my back and breathing heavy and hearing my ankles pop and crack (I can hear that hard breathing and those ankle pops because I now have to mute cute Leslie - I've memorized her and I'd rather read her lips than hear her say, "Are you all right? Of course you are, that was just the warm-up!" one more time). I cried because I still don't have a set appointment for my next PET scan and I hate insurance changes and even though it's been two weeks since I started exercising every morning, it's still hard and I'd love to skip tomorrow (and the next day and the next). I feel a lot older than I did the last time I exercised to this walking DVD five years ago and I cried about that, too. But, in the end, I wiped my tears, said Amen, and ate my lunch. Just gonna keep on going - me and the rest of the world.

(Pictures top and bottom: Final radiation treatment (No. 30!) on June 7, 2011 - "burned" neck, hair loss at the back of my head, and the dreaded & dreadful mask that bolted me to the radiation table...and Grammy & little Knox on June 19, 2011 - looking and feeling better, though I didn't realize the burned neck look was permanent...)