Yesterday was Tuesday, which means "thoughtful Tuesday", but I wasn't really up to writing, so, here I am on Wednesday, writing a "thoughtful Tuesday" post. Perhaps I should call it "waylaid Wednesday"?
Yesterday I heard of the passing of a high school classmate. I didn't know her real well in high school, and I certainly hadn't kept up with her in the ensuing years, but there is something about high school that breeds some familiarity, and when you know the name and remember the person, you feel a connection, even in the absence of a regularly maintained one. Social media allows us to re-connect, electronically, so those long lost names and faces bubble up, and breed a refreshed familiarity. I also think high school is a time of beginnings, and in my own mind, I think it will always be that way. When a high school classmate is lost, it chips away at the illusion of the innocence of those 'beginnings', and carries an element of shock.
It's unsettling when an acquaintance who has passed is someone that was your own age, no matter the age. I remember the first time a friend of mine passed away, and was my age. I was 18 at the time. She was lost to a tragic car accident. I remember thinking how much it scared me. I remember realizing I wouldn't be here forever, that life would end for me, too, at some point down my road.
And so it went yesterday when I heard about the passing of my classmate.
I know life goes on, and it must, but there is always a part of me that wishes the world would stop, just for a moment in time, to honor those who pass. It just seems so inconsequential when a life is lost, and millions of people just carry on, without a care. Of course, they carry on because they don't know they shouldn't, and, of course, they don't even know that particular life was lost, but I find it oddly unsettling for those left behind...for them, life will go on, but be forever changed.
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