Pull up a chair

People keep asking me if I'm going to start blogging again. My standard answer: "No, I don't want to write another grief blog." That's what happened after my dad died. The blog became a place to express my grief. I know that's helpful and therapeutic and blah, blah, blah, but the association makes me sad.

And I haven't needed anything else to make me sad. I've got that covered, thank you very much.

Plus, there's the fact that my thoughts are scattered, bordering on incoherent - not really ideal for writing. For instance, I've spent the last five minutes - since I typed the word "sad" - reflecting on the word "sad", turning it around, thinking about why it's three letters and wondering how it measures up against the word "blue" (a word my sister Karen offered up one day recently). "Blue" works pretty well, too. I like to use that one when I'm talking to my brothers or sister. It sums it up nicely. "I've just been feeling blue."

But anyway, enough on the semantics of grief. The fact is that I'm sitting here at the computer - Barb's computer, at that - and I'm writing a blog. It's all because of one simple sentence, because that's the way I always conceive of my blog posts - I think of a phrase or a title and that's all I need. I sit down and the computer and the rest comes.

Tonight, though, all I've got is the one thought. No elaboration, no funny little story. Just one persistent thought.

I thought of writing about it because it actually doesn't make me sad or blue. It makes me smile, even chuckle. The thought is this: I feel like Death has pulled up a chair and taken a seat right next to me.

Death is just hanging out, sitting in his chair. Wherever I am, there he is. Sometimes on my left, sometimes on my right. And somehow, as I see Death sitting next to me, I think that he's actually a pretty cheerful dude. He's witty, with a dry, sarcastic sense of humor. He cuts right to the heart of matters, no pretense, no bullshit. Cut and dry. Real. The kind of company I pretty much prefer.

I think I'm starting to take comfort in his presence. It kind of feels like he gets it.

Me and Death. Just hanging out.