a million times a trillion more (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dolorosa_12) wrote2015-02-20 05:18 pm
dolorosa_12) wrote2015-02-20 05:18 pm
Entry tags:
Life, death, words
It's been a complicated twenty-four hours.
Last night, my oldest cousin and his wife welcomed their newborn son into the world. He is, at this moment, far away, a collection of pixels on a screen, scrunched-up face, closed eyes, dark hair.
Last night, around the same time, my step-aunt-in-law (my stepmother's brother's wife) took her last breath, as the cancer which she had resisted for three years longer than everyone expected finally claimed her. She is, at this moment, far away, a collection of pixels on a screen: a still active Facebook account which is constantly being tagged by grieving friends, popping up in my feed as people, rather eerily, commented on it.
She was young enough to leave behind a four-year-old daughter.*
I am not the sort of person who sees any cosmic significance in the proximity of this birth and death. They are, like our existence, a cruel, beautiful coincidence.
The world is like that, sometimes.
______________________
*The men in my stepmother's family have cruel luck when it comes to this sort of thing. She has two older brothers, and both of their wives died in their late thirties/early forties, and both have left behind daughters who will grow up not knowing or remembering their mothers. It tears your heart.
Last night, my oldest cousin and his wife welcomed their newborn son into the world. He is, at this moment, far away, a collection of pixels on a screen, scrunched-up face, closed eyes, dark hair.
Last night, around the same time, my step-aunt-in-law (my stepmother's brother's wife) took her last breath, as the cancer which she had resisted for three years longer than everyone expected finally claimed her. She is, at this moment, far away, a collection of pixels on a screen: a still active Facebook account which is constantly being tagged by grieving friends, popping up in my feed as people, rather eerily, commented on it.
She was young enough to leave behind a four-year-old daughter.*
I am not the sort of person who sees any cosmic significance in the proximity of this birth and death. They are, like our existence, a cruel, beautiful coincidence.
The world is like that, sometimes.
______________________
*The men in my stepmother's family have cruel luck when it comes to this sort of thing. She has two older brothers, and both of their wives died in their late thirties/early forties, and both have left behind daughters who will grow up not knowing or remembering their mothers. It tears your heart.
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