Living in the Eye of the Storm

This has been a week of loss for people I love. Two friends have lost their fathers, and my cousin Bobby was in a bad car accident and has fractured his spine. Things change, at least for 3 people I know.

Things change all the time. They have all my life. One of the constants about growing up in an alcoholic household is that you can never count on anything being the same from day to day. But the human spirit, being as adaptable as it is, can adjust to crisis and chaos. It can adjust to the point where that becomes the constant you hold on to. So you're still holding on to something - even if it is just a concept that there is nothing to hold on to.

It saddens me that my cousin had this accident. It was avoidable. He was drinking, in the middle of the day, and driving. He hit a tree. He has broken his upper spine. He is being immobilized now in an attempt to have the fractures heal. He can move his toes and fingers. But if he moves his neck he could become paralyzed from the neck down.

This has been a time of sadness. I can't discount the news coverage of the past 3 weeks of the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. It is not only sad for the people in the Gulf region but it is sad for America. Sad that these tragic events happen. Sad that the toll is so high and usually paid by those who have the least to begin with. Sad that, whether true or not, it is still valid to question if our government acted (or failed to act) out of institutionalized racism. Sad that our President comes on prime-time television and offers hollow gift boxes to victims by telling the homeless, unemployed victims in New Orleans that they can homestead free federal land to build their new homes on. With what money one might ask. No answers there.

I've also had personal losses. Friendships that teeter on fragility and move in directions that feel irretrievable. Awareness that as I age there is less and less comfort in this world to be found anywhere or in anyone. Sadness that the few people I love can't be with me. Sadness that there isn't enough time in the day or energy needed to seek the comfort I crave.

It's living in the eye of the storm. I'm less and less able to adjust to living in the storm. Perhaps that's a good thing. There was a time when I wouldn't have felt alive if I weren't in crisis. That time has passed, happy to say.