The Period of Death

I'm reflecting on how life seems to be a combination of longer steady-state periods where things are going well - or at least pretty well - with the occasional frantic growth period tossed in to spice things up.  The growth periods are usually unwelcome and unannounced.  I know that they're coming at some point but they usually seem sudden, jarring, cacophonous.  I don't enjoy growth periods - AFGO, another fucking growth opportunity, after all - even though I realize that most of my growing comes during the hard times.  I don't normally grow very much when shit's going my way.  I coast.  I wallow.  I doze in the sun.  I ooze.

One of the most significant fragments of my life came about during the great Period of Death when I was separated from both parents and Ken H, my most beloved sponsor.  It didn't help that I was aging and no longer felt like I was ten feet tall and bullet proof.  I have always been overly concerned about my health and this preoccupation was jarred into reality by seeing people close to me die.  Death is pretty final and it's a thing, man.  Dead is dead.  Dead is gone.  I struggled mightily for six or seven months - maybe more - before I was able to right the emotional ship.  I did NOT enjoy the stuggling.  It was uncomfortable and I do NOT like being uncomfortable.  But I did come through that as a much tougher son of a bitch.  I brush stuff off more easily than I used to.  I have a solid temper and I can't remember the last time that someone or something did something that pissed me off for more than a couple of beats.  I think somewhere part of my brain listens to something that would have angered me in the past and shrugs: "Meh, both of my parents are dead.  I'm not upset that you laughed at my pork pie hat."  Life is easier.  Less frantic.  I'm more present.  I needed the pain to funnel me into this goodness.