Grief

Some bad news over the weekend has made me think a lot about grief. A friend - not a close friend but someone who worked in a local salon whom I've known for a long time and was a nice person - has suffered a heart attack and is not expected to live. She is forty-seven years old.

This is the not deep grief one feels when someone close to you dies, or betrays you, or is sick. But it's a grief that comes from the realization that good people sometimes die too young and that every contact we have with another person could be our last and that life is way too short. Its a grief that is more of a universal sadness for the tragedies of life. And its strong enough to keep me awake at night thinking about how fragile we are, how life needs to count for something, and how we need to make the most of every waking moment. It gives me an urgency to my days and it never leaves me. Its a grief I first learned about at the age of forty-three when my husband suffered a heart attack and I had no idea if he would live or not. It's a grief I know from my own brush with death. It's a grief that feels as though you've walked into a closed door and knocked yourself silly. And we all feel it. Especially in a small community where every member is important and valuable and appreciated.

I'm not unfamiliar with grief. No one my age is. But its not something I live with like some people because I've had a blessed life. When it comes it shakes me to my core. Without my faith I'm not sure how I'd deal with it at all. As a community we pull together. As an individual, I tend to pull away. It's not a place I like to be and sometimes its easier not too get to close. It's one of the demons I deal with.

I love East Hampton. And I grieve over the loss of any of its members. God help us.