Tuesday, December 11, 2012

On Being an Adult

For some reason, every time I start a post, I think to myself 'Have I written this before?' But I never bother to go back and check.  Oh well :-)


There are times when you are growing up that you just can't wait to be older. When you turn 16, you can drive. When you turn 18, you can vote. And when you turn 21, you can drink. Legally anyway. But what about after that? Seems like it's all downhill from there. No big milestones to look forward to. Other than turning 30, when a lot of people seem to get depressed. And 40 is even worse. Honestly, I didn't think 30 was that bad. Somehow I doubt I'll get too worked up over 40, either.

But with all the wonderful things that come with getting older, there is a lot of crap too. Like insurance and mortgages. These are things you don't even think about when you think of being an adult. At least I didn't. Maybe that's part of the problem.

One thing I did have to deal with was death. No matter how old you are, it doesn't get any easier. I was a teenager when my great-grandparents passed away. I was 16 or 17 when my grandpa died. It really sucked.

A lot of time passed and I didn't have to deal with the deaths of anyone really close to me. But then my husband's grandfather passed the day our son was born. My grandparents passed away a couple years later, within 6 months of each other. And we lost my husband's grandmother later that year. We're each left with one grandmother and we know they won't be around forever.

But there are few things worse than having to visit a funeral home. For anyone. Friend, relative, neighbor, boss's father-in-law. I don't think we've actually had to take the kids to the funeral home. If we did, they are too young to remember it. But they know all about heaven. Being 5 and 7, they know more than any kid should. I don't know that it will make it any easier when they have to deal with the death of someone they know.

It sure doesn't make it any easier for me. Maybe part of it stems from my conflicted view of religion. I was born and raised Catholic, but I don't know if I believe in heaven and hell anymore. I don't know what I believe. But that's not why I'm writing. I don't want to get into a whole THING about it.

I'm mainly trying to work through having to deal with a death that I know is coming. We've had a little time to prepare for it. We were maybe too overly optimistic about the way things would turn out at first, but now we know better. Her family is hoping for a miracle. Everyone else is praying for a miracle. I don't know who to pray to anymore, so I don't. Maybe that's part of the problem. Or maybe the problem is that I am overly pessimistic and I think that no matter how hard I pray, it won't make a difference. My prayers aren't going to provide some magical cure for cancer. They aren't going to save someone from the brink of death.

Or are they?

Maybe that's the really crappy part of getting older. You lose that innocence and become so disillusioned by reality that you can't make a leap of faith anymore. I don't know. I just don't know...