Mixed Emotions

Mixed Emotions

   This morning marks the beginning of the Christian celebration, that of Christmas.  And for many, it brings about a flurry of mixed emotions, the gleeful faces of little children reminding us of our own slippage into an older age, the warm aromas of festive dinners reminding us of those struggling to even come up with a hot meal, the singing and celebrating of voices contrasting sharply with the quiet reflection of religious services.

   For me, the mixed emotions arrived with the news that my one remaining aunt had passed away, this just a day before the big holiday party planned for her, one where all of her relatives would be there to welcome her in her new home, one where her failing memory was treated with compassion and care.  When my brother asked me how I was taking it, I again alluded to the series I'd been watching, The Pacific (the Steven Spielberg/Tom Hanks production on WW II), the soldiers feeling that the unexpected death of one of their friends was less of a surprise or one filled with melancholy, as much as one filled with a mixed combination of shock and disbelief.  It was as if we knew, in a sense, that it was something that was inevitable, but somehow not quite now (as if we could ever pinpoint a time when we wouldn't be surprised).  It somehow wasn't supposed to happen, at least not now.  It was likely much the feeling that we would face when it came to our own demise.

   The other irony was the timing of my reading, me being in the middle of the book, Working Stiff, the Making of a Medical Examiner.  Not to put a damper on this season but it again proved a fascinating peek into just how delicate our bodies are and what an engineering feat it is to keep the dang things running, especially when faced with traumatic injuries.  Forget Hollywood and glossy quick examinations for this is forensics taken from the inside out as if we're somehow given a peek at the internal workings of our bodies.  As one example, imagine lugging around 1.5 gallons of liquid (about 5.7 liters) all day and all night, every day and every night;  despite what you see in films with a trickle of blood pooling around a body, this is the average amount of blood in a person. 

   My aunt had seemed so happy, mirroring what she had conveyed in life, always smiling and her worst look being not one of anger or mistrust, but only one of puzzlement.  She was so welcoming, always greeting you at the door like a puppy, glad to see you each and every time you arrived, never tiring of your presence, content just to be talking and sharing with you.  As her memory began to fade, at first gently and then coming on like a tidal surge full and unstoppable, she remained happy and pleased wherever she was, still happy to see everyone, still smiling and still seeming content to just talk and share.

   Even if the top medical examiner could peek into my aunt's 83-year old mind and body, he or she might never know exactly what was the actual cause of her passing away.  Perhaps it was a fall she had had earlier, perhaps it was her age, perhaps it was simply her time.  But at this time of year, the words of one Christmas song will take on some special meaning when it says, Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas. "Through the years we all will get together...if the fates allow."

   Perhaps it really is all in the hands of fate.  But if that is the case, it is all the more reason to celebrate...today, tomorrow, every single day, every single moment.