red shoes, red skillet

My parents rushed out of the house this morning to go to the hospital. My pawpaw’s youngest brother is dying of pancreatic cancer. He’d called relatives this morning and they rushed over to say goodbye. But he’s still alive, as I type. My mother told me the doctors said he only has tonight or tomorrow morning, and then he’s gone.

I didn’t know him at all, though. I can’t even remember his face. I’m just shocked that someone in my family has cancer. Someone in my family is dying of cancer.

I remember talking with my boss Paul about family members dying. I was inputting and I mentioned how the upcoming Sunday I’d be going to New Jersey to “hang san” (pay respects to the deceased) for my great-grandfather. Paul told me he’d be going, too. Then I said that I’d be going somewhere else after, and he replied that he spends the whole day there.

It was then that I realized that I’m a very lucky person. I’ve only experienced two deaths in my family up until now, and Paul has a whole day of grave visiting every year. Paul is 32 years old, and I am a little more than half that. It breaks my heart to think of the people that will be dead or dying by the time I am 32.

I know that people die, but I honestly didn’t realize that over the next few decades and for the rest of my life, people will be dying in droves. I have a lot of middle-aged and older relatives. All my life I’ve been a little disappointed at the lack of activity in my life, from weddings to parties to funerals. And now I’m standing at the beachfront, waiting for the tidal wave of wedding and funeral invitations to wash over and consume me, and I can’t walk away.

Time is tickin’