Reflections

Mr Carrillo died.

He fell asleep in his big old soft recliner and never woke up. At ninety-four years of age it seemed like a pretty good way to go; surrounded by the sun, his garden and his loving wife of seventy plus years.

Roger said on their last visit, the first weekend of May, that Grampa was complaining he couldn't climb a step ladder any more to trim his trees that the last time he climbed up the fire department had to come get him down. Roger said that he was very frail and spent a lot of his time dozing -- in the sun. During the visit Roger took a wonderful collection of photographs of all of them; together and separate, with Connor and without, sitting and standing, smiling and hugging. When a person dies at ninety-four it's hard to be sad but hard not to feel sad also.

He died loved. It seems like a pretty good way to go.

The death of a beloved person brings many emotions tumbling to the surface and I've reflected back on my own emotional dance with death over the years. One death and then another made me grateful for not having any residual guilt, so much so that I started trying to live my life as guilt free as I could. This was a good decision for me. Living with out guilt was a gift from God at first, an accident, but then slowly and very consciously I chose a path trying to live as guilt free as possible. This is a gift I try to give to myself every day.

I am stunned sometimes at the amount of discontent, anger, rage, hatred loose in the world. Where does it come from? Why does "anti" versus "for" create such a vortex. Why do my dreams have to die so yours can flourish? Is a gay marriage going to unhinge the balance of the cosmos? In the big picture does it matter? Is my bacon sandwich really a sin?

And all the weaker cousins of discontent/anger/rage/hatred, like mocking, cynicism or caustic humor at the expense of another. A plaid shirt is redneck? My accent is humorous? My weight is unforgivable? My car is substandard? The other day if I heard it once I heard it dozens of times "that's ugly" everything from a child to boots. Shopping at Walmart or Target is low class? When I breastfed my first baby I was damned, now you are damned if you don't breastfeed. Leather shoes, whale meat, wind turbines -- somebodies day is ruined over these facts.

So to everybody whose day I have ruined due to lousy taste, accent, beliefs, car, kids, goals or dreams -- please forgive me. I'm trying to live my life guilt free.

Oh, yeah and I'm trying to live my life with as much love as I can.
Surrounded by love seems like a pretty good way to go.