More about Lisa
I talked to Robin again tonight – the calling hours and memorial service have been set for this weekend, so I’m trying to arrange things to be able to go up there for those. It sounds like a good number of our group should be in town for everything, so it’ll be good to see everybody again. Not that the circumstances are good for a reunion, but there’s always some positive to be found right?
We also know a bit more about how she died. Apparently when she fainted (which we’re not sure why, nor will we ever I guess), she fell and bruised her legs – which caused clots to form. The clots moved around her system until they got stuck in her lungs, which caused all sorts of problems, and eventually her death in the ER.
Knowing what happened is at least something – but it does drive home how fragile life is. Lisa was in generally good health, and then this inexplicable thing happens. That causes some very small things to develop, which quickly snowball into something far, far more serious. And like that, she’s gone.
I’m looking forward to the events on Friday and Saturday – it’ll be good to see everybody who knew her, trade stories, and get some of the going-through-this process further along. I almost typed “closure”, but it seems a bit early in the game for that to be the focus.
In the meantime, there’s a few more song lyrics that I’ve dredged out of my memory banks. The first was from Hootie and the Blowfish’s second album; there’s a song there that describes the process one of the band members went through as his mom died of a long term illness. Somewhere in the song is the phrase
The world stops for just a moment,
then moves on.
From time to time, our worlds are shattered. Maybe we saw it coming, maybe we didn’t – but whatever it is, we want the world to stop. We are so shattered that its incomprehensible that another day will come, or that anything in our universe will be the same. Yet the sun does set, we may or may not sleep but a new day does come, and life stubbornly refuses to stop to allow for our tragedy. Those around us certainly sympathize – and parts of life do get postponed, or cancelled altogether. But the flow of time is inexorable, and soon enough we’re all swept up in its tide again.
Which is for the best, I suppose – both that there are those moments of pause, of mourning, of glances and embraces that speak volumes; and that life resumes again, to give us distance, to give us new experiences that help define who we are in this new, post-event universe.