I’ve decided to attend a death cafe tonight. Just before I leave, I realize something pretty valuable popped out of my car when I opened the door to get my mail in the dark last night. At the time I thought a cheap hair clip was the soft little cadinky dink that hit the pavement. As I prepared to leave for this death cafe, I realized it was a valuable pair of sunglasses I love.
I thought about all the ironies of this day and the choice to attend this cafe. A ping of fear stuck me when I imagined attending this group, maybe they might be offended a funeral service student was attending? Would I feel comfortable explaining this to them? I thought, i could tell them my beloved dog is currently being consumed by Cancer. A big deal to me, maybe not so much to a person losing a child? What the hell was I thinking?
I was thinking I’m trying to learn. I’m afraid as anyone else to put myself out there, but I do it. I do strange curious things like this because that’s who I am.
Then I realized, my glasses were gone. And I spent 30 minutes looking for these suckers. I REALLY didn’t want to lose them. I’m not gonna lie, I started to bargain with the universe to give them back to me. They were symbolic to me, a little indulgence, a stroke of good luck, something I really loved and was proud of. Something that made me feel like the universe was thinking of me with a little love, giving me a break for a change. I guarded them more than other things. They were precious to me. Then I realized, ugh! They fell out of my car!! My heart sank.
It’s seems like such a small and trivial thing. But in my life, this loss just before a group meeting specializing in loss seemed pretty mean and ironic.
I know I sound like a materialistic baby to most, but objects, the loss of them are many of our training grounds for our feelings and reactions to loss. I bet everyone can think of an object, valuable or not, that hurt to lose. I have a list of things, people, and places I’ve lost during my lifetime. The feeling of helplessness, the violation, unfairness, the grief, all special gut twisters.
I’m late now. It sucks. Being late, you can’t seem to truly be a Californian without being late. I miss being Texan sometimes. I never seemed to lose as much there.