My dear friend recently had a heart attack. She is home now and doing well with her new medicinal and lifestyle changes. When the initial phone call came alerting me to this situation, I was my usual calm, together self in the face of a crisis. Later, I did fall apart.
I have a few wonderful friends...more like sisters really. I am blessed, I know. This incident truly frightened me as I'm over the 'fifty-five hill' now and I recall my mother constantly referring to her sick and deceased friends when she reached sixty. "Hi Dear," she'd say. "Did I tell you that Sue has cancer and that Beth's husband dropped dead on the golf course?" I would sympathize, of course, but I did think that this was just mom being peculiar.
Now, I find myself telling my son about this friend... scared that I may have lost her and frightened that I could be next. Suffice it to say that I have a laundry list of unhealthy habits. I rationalize my lifestyle by recalling a neighbor-a 45 year old, trim, jogger type that collapsed when playing tennis- and many similar instances. (Oh, I know better, I understand the percentages. I don't think I feel invisible, I think I just don't want to fight those fights at this point.) Shall I call these polarized thoughts, "dichotomal concepts?"
So, it seems clear that my mortality is what's actually at stake here. I believe that I will go to Heaven, by way of a long stint in Purgatory. I believe that I'll hang out with friends and family angels and that I'll take a walk to where Saint Francis has my pets running in a green pasture. (Sorry, this is getting too maudlin, huh?) I do believe my journey will lead to somewhere, though. Maybe, that's all I can articulate now.
"Millions long for immortality who don't know what to do on a rainy Sunday afternoon."