NORMAL LIFE: Life Is Too Short

Lately, I've been a bit cheerful than usual; with a trip to Madeira just around the corner and having recently celebrated my 30th birthday AND having booked a Christmas holiday in South Africa, I was somewhat taken aback by two bits of bad news.

The first concerned a colleague of mine in the States. She wrote a heart-rending email to us a couple of weeks back, telling us that her Cancer had returned and that she was booked in to have some surgery which would be followed by an even more agressive course of chemotherapy than the first time around.

I felt inclined to respond; she had always been kind to me and, although we rarely saw eachother, I too felt close to her. As I started to formulate my reply, the words of sympathy began to flow. Firstly, I thanked her being so open before telling her my own, albeit less dramatic, story. I explained how, just six years ago, I was still totally deaf, my speech somewhat impaired and how people used to point and laugh at me. Without highlighting my sexuality, I explained what a challenge it was to make my mark, to be seen as willing and able considering what I referred to as the 'other aspects of my life'.

Her response was one of wiseness. She basically blasted those people who may have pointed and laughed at me before describing me as 'very warm, kind, intelligent and handsome'. She went on to say that 'Ultimately, you have to be you, and you need to be proud of that because there's only one you'. I wasn't seeking praise or anything, but what amazed me was that here was a women at deaths door (on her second warning, at least) and, still, she had time to make others feel good about themselves! Extending a hand of friendship, I told her that now was time to fight back and that if she ever needed someone to talk to, I was there for her.

As I thought over this email, I received an call from a former colleague of mine who was ringing to invite me for lunch. I sensed something in her voice that wasn't quite right and when I asked her if anything was wrong, she told me that her father had died just before Easter. Oh dear, I thought to myself.

I met up with her today for lunch and I was amazed at how calm she seemed. Two weeks after her father's death, her worry was her mother who, having been married for more than 35 years, was now suddenly alone. Her mother was planning to move to Helsinki, which was good news, but they needed to wait for the autopsy results to determine the cause of death. "What do you mean?" I asked. She explained that her father was 64 and died in his sleep. He has just retired from a very stressful job and was starting to get used to his new routine as pensioner when he just past away in his sleep.

Blimey, I thought to myself. My father is 63 and, suddenly, I realised that my own parents are actually on borrowed time. I have reached that age now that had pushed my own parents into the danger zone and, admist the stress of everyday life, I just hadn't realised. Nothing like incidents like these two to put your life into perspective, is there?