For reference, last week’s blog post was a quickly cobbled together tribute to a high-school teacher whose actions changed my life. And as is often the case for me, my emotional reactions tend to follow later as the wave-like reverberations slow enough for me to track on them.
I’ve been down since hearing the news of my teacher’s passing more than a week ago now. Waking daily with a heaviness on chest and brain that happens when I experience a non-localized anxiety.
To summarize many, many thoughts on the matter, I’ve been contemplating my own mortality.
Hitting middle age does that I suppose, brings the end (or the generalized whereabouts of where you predict the end to be) into sharper focus.
I recognize the inherent selfishness of the response: I’m taking another person’s death—and another family’s pain—and making it about myself and my family. Recognizing the selfishness hasn’t told me how to dispel it, however.
I acknowledge that I have much work to do in this area.