Perspective

Today I realized that I have one more week of my 30s and I'm not really happy about that. If I'm not happy about that, why have I said for the last 6 months, "I'm almost 40." Every time it's exited my mouth I have thought, "Why did you say that? You should have said you're 39 because soon, nothing in your life will be 30 anything?!" I don't know, I just kept doing it. So now, here I am one week left in my 30s and I'm realizing I'll never be able to say that I'm 30 something. I blame all of this age-phobia sounding diatribe on my parents who refuse to acknowledge birthdays or accept that yes, someday they ARE going to die (not to be morbid, just realistic). At the rate of their facial "treatments", I'm going to look older than them in the next 10-20 years. How's that for giving you a complex?

Then for an unexpected smack in the face, I opened up the Census mailing. The first statement is: "The Census must count every person living in the U.S. on April 1, 2010." Instantly, I realize that I will be counted in this Census even though I will be 40 but Mark will not be because he's dead. If that doesn't put 40 in perspective, I don't know what does. It's these random events/things that really makes Mark's death hit home. Another one is the fact that my digestive tract can finally tolerate small amounts of caffeine and doesn't balk at eating during the daylight hours. I just realized last week that it's been since around Mark's diagnosis on March 27, 2008 that I have been able to do those two things without severe consequences. That's 2 YEARS that my physiological system has been violently reacting to Mark's painful journey. It's amazing to me and surreal to think about. Part of me wants to hold it up and out and say, "See! Even though I wasn't his wife, his pain and death affected me tremendously." Even though I held it together and made it through day by day, my body told the true story and while I would get frustrated and angry at it for not allowing me more eating freedom, now I am proud of it because it just bears witness to the fact that he was almost as close to me as family. In some senses he was closer because he was there during the horribly bad times and he did not desert me as many did.

All this from the Census questionnaire...