Death in the Air

It was February 21st 2014, I was 32,000 feet up in the air comfortably cruising the long journey home from Asia. 

In Lower Early, Berkshire a friend's heart stopped beating.  At 41 years of age he died from a sudden heart attack.

It would be 3 weeks till I found out why, my website designer and developer was not replying to my emails. 

When I did find out it was one of those moments that puts your mind and body into complete 'pause'.  The shock, disbelief and realisation of life's frailty enveloped me.

For some strange reason today I woke up wondering what has happened to 'him'.  The rest of him.  The real him?

He was a man with immense creativity.  He took wonderful photographs displaying true genius behind the camera.  Where is his stock of images?  What happened to that asset?  How sad and what a waste that all those creative projects he was constantly working on, have also come to a pause.

The websites he managed and designed have been handed over to others.  The 'work' part of our lives is relatively easy to outsource, subcontract or dismiss.

What about the rest of who we are?  That sense of who we were  becoming before our untimely halt? Where do all our hopes, ambitions and work in progress  go - of course the answer is usually nowhere.  I know my poor husband would have no chance of managing my 23 blogs, many half written books and 'life journals' - I struggle myself some days.

Ive mentioned before how I worry a lot about life without Essy or Solar.  I know one day the inevitable is destined to happen.  Its a day and an 'after life' that I dread.  Life without them is unbearable to imagine. 

Yet this morning I had a fresh perspective in mind.  A perspective that says "thank god my horses are horses - simple and true".  Thank goodness remembering them will be uncluttered and uncomplicated.  Thank goodness they leave behind no 'half completed sides of themselves' - they are whole, every day, always 100% themselves, something that is easy to bask in and enjoy; for them and for me.

It may not be much to hold onto. I may have to remind myself of this perspective when one day, I realise my horses can't defy the inevitable no matter how hard I work at keeping them healthy, safe and very much alive.