17 June 2008

dignity to dust

a childhood friend recovers from cancer. 2 other mothers i know are battling with old age and severe ill-health. their sons, my friends have asked for prayers. another of my seniors from nus just passed away. his dad went about the wake, trying to find out more about a son whose inner life remains a mystery to him. he was only 37 but looked like 60 as he lay at rest. another couple i know has a newborn baby. he is fighting to overcome a viral fever in hospital, but will leave for home today, first to know his mother's touch.

one life fights to begin while others swiftly end.

here i am: making career plans. and needed shifts. reworking KPIs. mc retreats. vetting investiture programmes. marking PW EOMs...drafting a prolonged work review. make time to plan my own place soon. and dream of that car. deeply aware, grateful for my family's general good health, and significant others who are close to me. still, disability or death can strike anytime. who would we depend on should crisis happens?

am i in confrontation with uncertainty or the sure assuredness of mortality before me?

elsewehere, i read -
'the gift of life is no less beautiful when it is accompanied by illness or weakness, hunger or poverty, failure, rejection or physical and mental handicap, loneliness and old age...indeed, at these times, human life gains extra splendour as it requires our special care, concern and reverence. ' Cardinal Terence Cooke

i walked to church for evening mass today. i prayed. and lifted the people in need. and my own small plans. i am not alone. elsewhere, others stood fastened to a distant aisle. just there...clumsy ... perhaps too fiercely detached to reconcile anything deeper than dust. most believe this place is washed with slivers of greyold thoughts while my neighbour's wet ambitions come confined to a single tear.
the quiet is a close cousin of a greater catholic silence that heals. votive lights stilled a wild swarm of festering questions, burned them to dust. many ashes of dream and death rise... emblaze the heaving torment of God nailed on cross.