Whithers and dies.

Dying occurs in stages and clumps. I learned this early on and have seen it expanded in middle age. There are never any rash, sudden deaths in my life. It all happens at once, leaving you dull and numb. When I was nine my Grandfather died and with that led to witnessing my Father cry for the first time; the death of my innocence in that moment. If he could weep then the world would always catch me off guard. Oh course my Grandfather's death led to other small whithering lives...a strained relationship with my Grandmother and Mother causing changes and endings, my Dad's withdrawal into himself...it all came in one lousy clump leaving me raw and weary of, "What next?"

This pattern has followed me. In college my dog would get run over and that night my boyfriend would break up with me, only to cry myself to sleep and be woken with a call from home that my uncle had died. I never felt I could steadfastly rely on that if I could just get through this time, weather this storm, it would all be OK....the other shoe was always about to drop.

Now, my father, my rock, is dead. My marriage is dying, my foundational sense of who I am (my love for my children) is whithering and I'm left again wondering....what next?