A bit of a darker post

I haven't overly felt like posting lately. I was worried that they were getting too dark but when I mentioned this a bit ago to my parents, they said that the nature of blogging, inherently introspective, can always come across as a bit deep and therefore, sometimes a bit sad. Maybe melancholy. And to be honest, I haven't felt all that chipper as of late, being haunted by memories of the past. Memories that cause my anxiety riddled mind to perpetually ask what if. But what if's never really help because you can't change what happened. And perhaps if you'd known what you know now, things could have been different. Forgive yourself for not knowing. But this isn't about that. Last night, I had a memory of hot toddy's. A good memory. So instead of doing homework, I made a hot toddy, curled up in an arm chair, and watched a movie. 

Then for a lecture today, we discussed death which given my profession, should be something we talk about. The prof told us to reflect on our own understandings of dying and come to terms with our mortality. No small feat. When I was one, my grandpa died. I don't remember this but I think of him every so often because my mom once said I had his eyes. And sometimes I try to imagine what it would be like to look into someone's eyes and see your own staring back. I tried to think back to my first experience I could remember. Grade ten. A friend's brother died in a car crash. Perhaps its seared into my memory because of the suddenness of death and perhaps because I thought of my oldest sister who was the same age as the man who died. Then my mind remembers the three family members who have died and my experience with each. The more I thought about how I responded, the more I know that experiences with death cannot be clinically assessed and packed and a formula given in how to respond or how to prepare. I'm not sure grief can be explained. And I wonder if the people left behind are never fully ready no matter how prepared you are.

I wanted to add a piece about hope, given the dense subject matter. But I was talking to a friend almost half a year back and we agreed that not everything happens for a reason. I didn't want to add in contrite phrases. But I will tell a dream that happened shortly after my aunt died of cancer. I don't often remember my dreams but I remember this one because it was fuzzy. Like I couldn't fully see what was happening but I was walking through a meadow filled with flowers and there were tall trees all around. The weather was warm and everything was filled with pinks and yellows and oranges. My aunt stood in this meadow and she said, "I'm ok". And then I woke up. Maybe it's because I had read "The Shack" a few months prior, maybe I was trying to come to terms with someone I knew dying. All I know is that I'm not sure what to make of dreams.