Time for the ruminations on death

I have a couple of friends who hate it when people ask them "so what do you do?" because either they don't like what they do or don't care or don't think what they do is worthwhile or just don't want to talk about it or whatever. I'm one of the lucky few who don't feel that way, and I don't cast aspersions. I just don't ask them about it.

For me, this summer has me reacting the same way to the question "How are you?" Since my mom died, what I get is more along the lines of "How are you?" The italics may be more or less subtle, but they're always there. This raises the stakes on my answer beyond what I would prefer from a casual sort of question, which in turn leads me to answer "okay."

From what I can gather, "okay" is about a step above "fine" on the adolescent rating scale, "fine" being one step above "miserable" in that context. For me right now, it's just shorthand for a lot of complicated thought.

What's the significance of the death of a mother with whom I was never super close and who has been a practical nonentity in my life for nearly 10 years now, when I'm nearly 60 years old? And yes, I know that sounds kind of heartless. It's not meant that way. I loved my mom and she loved me. We just weren't close and she'd been really sick for a really long time.

And so I have to deal with the possibility that it really doesn't have any deep meaning for me, at least on the most straightforward level. This seems sort of strange. Aren't we supposed to find meaning in life's big moments? Maybe, but it runs counter to the way I try to live. Not that the big moments don't have meaning, but that every other moment does as well.

What life lessons am I supposed to glean from all of this? I'll tell you one thing, the big events might punch you in the gut, but even if they don't, they spin off in ways that can kick your butt repeatedly as you continue along your chosen path. It's now that I'm beginning to understand that even though my mom's passing was neither sudden nor unexpected and was in many ways a blessing, it has made me think more about other people in my life who have either died or are simply far away.

Man, I hate what I'm about to write, and those of you who think I'm cynical at heart won't get it, but here it is.

Ruminating on death has made me feel more alive.

AAAAGH! How cliché is that? Ugh, ugh, ugh. But it's true. I hate being so obvious. But it's true. I don't think I've ever felt more open, both in terms of sharing and in terms of letting things in than I've been for the last month.

So if you were looking for something dark and gloomy, this ain't the place. I'm neither feeling dark nor gloomy. A bit challenged at times, but I can live with that.