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Posts for the date of Thursday, January 16, 2003
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posted by Gary O'Brien at 9:38 AM |
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"father, mother, sister, brother,
uncle, aunt, nephew, niece,
soldier, sailor, physician, labourer,
actor, scientist, mechanic, priest
earth and moon and sun and stars
planets and comets with tails blazing
all are there forever falling
falling lovely and amazing"
Since late November, a few members of my family have been quietly tormenting over a friend of theirs who was missing in Texas. They rarely heard any news, they had to dig up stories and updates from far-off local newscasts. Periodically, they’d get a moment of hope, but it would be dashed.
Yesterday, they learned that their friend’s body had been found. Her husband is in police custody and their children in the custody of the state. In a moment five lives were destroyed forever, with shockwaves that will reverberate through every person this woman has come into contact with, from neighbors, to church friends to other parents.
In news reports, her friends and pastors have referred to her as a kind and giving woman, a loving woman, a good employee, a dedicated friend. An all around good woman.
Though I do not recall meeting her, she attended my mother’s funeral. While the family went to the cemetery, she went back to my mother’s house to help set up the food for the after funeral get-together. Even though she had never met my mother, she was there for my brother, his wife and their family. She greeted grieving strangers, offered them a communal meal, listened to their stories and gave them a place to rest their tired, grief-stricken bodies. Though, in essence, she never met our family outside of brief moments, she gave of herself one Tuesday afternoon during a snowstorm to alleviate some of the burdens of a grieving family.
I hope that, in some way, I can repay her kindness with kindness of my own. Her family is now the one in need and I hope there is something I can do from afar, some sort of comfort or help, that I can provide in their time of need. She was a kind, giving human being who touched me, though I wasn’t even aware of it. I can tell by the words of her friends and family that she will be truly missed. And I know, from my own brief encounter (that I truly wish that I could remember now) that the world will certainly ache from her loss. She was an example of humanity, piety and generosity that many of us can learn from.
Lives collide, paths intersect with a frequency that we are never aware of. Each and every day we cross the paths of other people. Our lives may touch one another in hidden and quiet ways. We may offer one another comfort, humor and friendship without even realizing it. From letting someone in on the highway, to an entertaining chat with a stranger while waiting for a movie.
As I sit here thinking about these quiet moments, I am reminded of a family from New Jersey whom my family met on our vacation to Disney World a few years ago. We were standing, waiting for a parade at EPCOT. I mentioned to Matilda that we would see exotic characters from around the world. She replied, “Even New Jersey?” The family next to us thought this was hilarious. We chatted while waiting, our kids shared a churro and they bought a glowing necklace for their daughter and ours. Our families didn’t know one another. But for those few hours, watching parades and fireworks, we were friends. Two families from different parts of the world sharing in the same moment.
I still remember that family. And I probably will for the rest of my life. Their brief kindness touched me.
Do not take life . . . anyone’s life . . . for granted. Our time here on this little blue-green dot is short. And sometimes painful. It’s people like the friend of my brother’s wife who make our lives a little easier sometimes, even though they are, in a respect, strangers.
We should take her life as an example. Give a little bit of yourself. It doesn’t hurt, and you never know who you may touch by accident. And it doesn’t have to take much time.
So, the next time you’re standing line at the grocery store, let the woman with the three kids ahead of you. She may need to get home. Or the crazy guy on the highway may not just be an inconsiderate moron, as you may suspect. He may be hurrying home to a sick child. You just may make someone’s day. You never know when that one moment of kindness may be the biggest thing you can contribute.
Take the time. Let people know you care. We share this space for a short time. Why not do it in a loving and generous way?
As Wayne Coyne once said:
And instead of saying all of your goodbyes - let them know
You realize that life goes fast
It's hard to make the good things last
You realize the sun doesn't go down
It's just an illusion caused by the world spinning round
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Posts for the date of Monday, January 13, 2003
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posted by Gary O'Brien at 9:05 AM |
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I have this little bubble of nervousness floating around in me today. Tonight I sleep at home. Tomorrow I sleep at the hospital under observation, attached to machines with electrodes and (gasp) being videotaped. To be fair, it’s not really the hospital, but a sleep clinic. But still . . . I’ll have to call for help if I want to go to the bathroom so that I can have the electrodes detached.
I’m going in for observation for Sleep Apnea. I’m pretty sure I have it. It’s when you’re sleeping and you stop breathing for ten seconds. You actually can wake up hundreds of times a night and not even know it.
All the signs are there. Irritability, fatigue, loud snoring, falling asleep at weird times. And on and on and on.
I’ve always had a weird relationship with sleeping. It used to be insomnia, though when I was a kid I just thought I was really wrapped up in the book I was reading. I didn’t really peg it as insomnia until I was living alone. I would wander around my apartment looking for something to do until I was finally sleepy. There were weeks where I’d only have three hours of sleep. It was hell but at least I knew what was going on. Racing thoughts. I couldn’t shut off my brain.
Once I got married, I would just lay in bed. It seemed rude to leave my wife alone because I couldn’t sleep. And maybe, just maybe, I could fall asleep again.
Now that the baby is here I don’t have a problem falling asleep. Perhaps because your body knows it may be called upon to do something at two am and you need to get whatever you can. But my body, the bastard that it is, refuses to cooperate.
My wife is the one who ratted me out to the doctor. We both had an appointment on the same day and she told the doctor that I gasp and gag while I’m asleep. And now I get to sleep under observation.
I have mixed emotions about it. On the one hand, this is a good thing. I have a name to put with my exhaustion. I have an excuse. And, to be honest, I don’t friggin’ want to die of heart problems associated with Sleep Apnea. There is a treatment. God, can you imagine finally having a full night’s sleep? Maybe I could finally have the energy to exercise and shed these extra pounds I have. And, when I shed them, I may not need the treatment.
What’s the treatment, you ask? That’s what makes me nervous. It’s something called a CPAP. It’s a mask that you wear while you sleep. The mask is attached to an air compressor that keeps a constant air pressure in your throat so that the tissues do not close.
A mask. As Sarah Vowell said in her book (a passage I read last night, ironically) “Congratulations! You’re a cyborg!” Yay.
I don’t want to have this thing that I have. I want to sleep well. I want to wake up happy and refreshed and not yell at the kids for making my cereal soggy. But, still . . . I don’t want to wear a mask.
My wife didn’t sign on for sleeping with Darth Vader every night. How attractive is a man in an elephant mask? I’m proving myself to be one hell of a catch. GERD that keeps me up gagging on my own stomach acid and choking to death in the middle of the night. How proud she must be. She’s officially married to one of those dorks you used to see at church on Sunday whose parents made them wear their dental headgear. You could always see that defeated shame in their eyes. You can see it in mine.
Yes. It’s true. My fear is part of a matter of pride. Of attractiveness. I don’t want to be one of those men whose wives roll over in the middle of the night and say, “Oh Jesus. What the hell am I doing here?” I don’t want my daughters to stay in bed, terrified of the summer thunderstorm rather than come to bed with us because they are more terrified of the face-sucking alien attached to Daddy’s face.
But, most of all, I don’t want to die of heart failure in the middle of the night, leaving behind the three things in life that truly make me happy. What’s eternity without the ones you love? Ah, yes. It is called hell.
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