I didn�t go to work yesterday, had a doctor�s appointment, decided to take the whole day to rest and recuperate from a lovely weekend away. I went camping in Joshua Tree. I had never been there before, the scenery was spectacular. I�ve been needing a weekend away for quite awhile now, needing an escape, some time with nature, the long drive, every little bit and piece of this weekend was something I needed. Surrounded by people I adore, stuck in the middle of a preserved ecosystem. Very nice. I have to say, the most memorable and beautiful moment of the weekend took place on top of a giant boulder not very far from our camp. I don�t remember ever in my life seeing stars that clear, a sky that vast. I was too young when I lived in Alaska to remember things like that, though I�m sure I�ve seen it before.

But this� Wow. A tiny sliver of moonlight was enough to light the way. The boulders around us weren�t rocks at all, but ancient sculptures and statues of majestic creatures. I know, sounding a bit spacey, but that�s what the outdoors does to me, so we�ll have to deal with a spacey Barb for a moment, okay? Anyhoo, as I was saying, before you so rudely tried to stone my vibe, it was beautiful. Not too cold, at least not with a makeshift sexy-person-blanket draped over me. Slight breeze, out there, even the wind was silent. No noise but for an occasional distant howl of a coyote and some shared words, marveling on the beauty around us. Very cool. Very, very cool. I�ll have to go back sometime soon, because I have the feeling that in the narrow little space of a day or two, I hardly scratched the surface of what there is to experience at Joshua Tree. Well, that�s something to look forward to, isn�t it.

But back to life, back to a harsh reality. Work is going well, on the ball, getting some shit done. And then I just got a terribly distressing call from my mother. My sister, Heather, and her husband, Sean, recently flew up to San Francisco to be with Sean�s mother in the hospital. She was flown from the island she lives on with her husband (this island is a maybe a few miles long, it�s a little project space in the middle of nowhere that he is in charge of) to San Francisco for an emergency operation, something to do with ovarian cancer. I had only heard bits and pieces from Heather, she called yesterday to let me know she�d need a ride home tonight from the airport (she lives a few blocks away from me). So she and Sean are coming back tonight. According to my mother, they just found out this morning that the cancer is in Stage 4. Which means it�s in the last stage, it�s hit every other major organ in her body, and there is nothing that can be done to save her.

I honestly don�t know what to do. Sean�s not talking much. Heather�s a wreck, understandably so. I�m kind of just here. I know the woman, I mean, she�s family by marriage. I�m not close to her by any means, but I�m VERY close with Sean. We deemed each other blood-siblings and don�t even use the word �in-law� when introducing each other to friends. I�m almost afraid to look at him when I pick them up tonight. I don�t know if I can handle that kind of pain on the face of someone I love. As much as I try to keep an even keel, horrible thoughts keep creeping into my head. Heather and Sean just got their house, they move into it this summer and plan to have a baby at that time, or at least in about a year. A year. And the doctors won�t even try to speculate how much time Sean�s mother may have, for fear of giving false hope.

So I will pick them up. And I will try not to cry when I see their faces. And I will pray in my own way that this is as painless a transition as possible for Sean�s mother. And somewhere inside myself, I will try to understand that there could be a reason for this random selection, that her life energy will be best expended through another outlet. But on the surface, for now, as I am very far from Zen, I just don�t get it. I may never get it. There are things in the universe that my puny mind could never comprehend. I�ve never been to a funeral. I�ve never dealt with death before, other than my father�s parents, who died on the east coast, distant, out of sight, out of mind. We never truly �have� anything. Or anyone, for that matter. We are blessed in life to share moments, share experiences. So if we realize that we never have anything or anyone to begin with, maybe we wouldn�t feel such loss when they�re taken away. Rather, we would feel honored and lucky that we were able to share those things, those people, for as long as we were, before they go to another place to share themselves in other ways.

My favorite quote in times like these is, �Don�t cry because it�s over. Smile because it happened.� When I die, I want those who loved me to smile. To think of every laugh and thought shared, every absurd idea and serene moment. Just to smile and be happy for a moment that I happened in their lives. That would be the greatest honor of all in this world. And that is how I plan to think at the first funeral I attend, whether it be this beautiful person or someone else before her. I will smile and thank the Universe for allowing me, little peon that I am, the privilege of having known them, of having been able to �share� in their time here. Sounds noble, doesn�t it. If only our emotions could be that logical.

-Barbarella

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