Winter... And The Meaning of Life

My most loyal readers know how much I dislike winter and the colder weather it brings. Of course, I am writing this in the midst of the “storm of the century” where two feet is a realistic scenario. This is on top of the pre-Christmas blizzard where were received the early “gift” of a foot and a half of snow. So to say my Seasonal Affect Disorder has been exacerbated this season would be an understatement. Not to mention my recurring sinusitis and what appears to be the onset of mild arthritis in my knee. But what Mother Nature has brought us is only the literally icing on the cake of what has become a bittersweet time of year.

On the one hand, there are a few causes for celebration: the birthdays of my lady Cathy, my Mom (even though our relationship has deteriorated), and Martin Luther King. Ironically Rev. King and my mother share the same day. But immediately after those dates come some difficult reminders of loss, some of them very fresh. Cathy’s birthday is followed just two days later by that of her deceased son Tommy. By the time I finish writing this, it will be the first anniversary of the passing of Cathy’s aunt Beth whose birthday is a day later. It was a difficult time managing both our jobs with the canine legacies we temporarily inherited just as we had adopted two feline sisters. And those cats arrived in part because of the passing of my own feline buddy Homes two years ago this month.

Thinking about all this loss got me to thinking about death in general. People die every day, of course, in ways that are sudden and agonizingly slow, painful and peaceful. Besides the streak of celebrities that left in 2009, I’m also starting to experience the loss of people that were close to me. I’m starting to acknowledge the reality that both of my parents may not be here in the next ten years. And finally I came to the startling reality that I too am going to die...and that by some measures I may already be halfway there. And that makes me sad... and scared.

As you all know, I’m not particularly religious. So I have no idea what’s going to happen to me after I pass away. Truthfully, no one else really does either, although people’s faith tells them what they might expect. I guess that’s what faith really means: to believe that by following one’s spiritual beliefs that the next existence you’ve been promised will happen. Without that anchor, I’m left to ponder the meaning of life. How did I become fortunate (?) enough to born human? Was I a drop of water before? Will I be a frog next?

I now understand why some people start to have a “mid-life crisis”. But don’t worry; I don’t see myself hopping into a convertible with a Barbie riding shotgun. However, I have been in a slow if economy-hampered process of reinventing my career. Based on my intellectual potential, I’m probably “supposed” to be in middle-management now if not Vice-President of whatever company. Then again, I’ve been surprised by the paths taken by many of the high school alumni I’ve rediscovered on Facebook. So I don’t necessarily feel that “underachieving” is a bad thing. In fact, I’m probably happier now than if followed the so-called traditional path.

Still…I HATE winter.