In Gratitude
It’s easy to define the best part of making it into your geriatric years: you are still alive. The worst part of making it into your geriatric years is also easy to define: people are dying all around you. That sucks, but you’re still alive so maybe when its time to get past your mourning you shouldn’t think the world has taken a crap on you in particular.
But… you know… it really has.
More than thirty years ago, Mike Nesmith, of Monkees fame, said “growing old is a bitch, and our generation is totally not prepared for it.” That’s true; the baby boomers are indeed the first generation to be raised in the luxury of Peter Pan’s shadow. Death has a habit of shouting “It’s time to grow up.”
I don’t believe I ever met Michael Davis’ mother, and that’s a shame. I think the most difficult part of motherhood isn’t childbirth, although that’s hardly a walk in the part. It is taking on and fulfilling the responsibility of raising your child to be a decent human being. After doing just that, Michael’s mom, Jean Harlow Davis Lawrence (and that’s a cool name), passed away Saturday morning.
I owe her… big time.
She raised a great kid – clever, intelligent, funny, and a person who genuinely understands the holiness of friendship. I put that all on Jean. Michael was too young to do it himself. He’s written lovingly about her so much that I feel I really know her. But I think I really know Michael, and that’s about the closest thing.
Michael, you are surrounded by the love of your many, many friends. Your loss makes you feel lonely, and that is fair and proper. But, my friend, you are not alone.
And you are loved.
