I think everyone is familiar with the Hugh Grant movie, Four Weddings and A Funeral. I can’t help but wish that this blog post was about my parallel life to that movie. But it’s not. It’s more of a morbid twist on it.
My boss has basically been given 8 weeks to live after an MRI detected 18 tumours in her brain. I’ve worked with her for almost a year now, and am assuming there’ll be a funeral and most of us at work will attend it. I don’t know. If I do, it will be my third funeral in less than a year.
My dad, my uncle, my boss…it’s a lot of death in one year. It’s hard for it not to affect me, not just emotionally, but mentally as well. I can’t help but think, every time something hurts, that it’s cancer. Or a blood clot. Or a heart attack. It’s a pretty miserable way to live your life, constantly thinking you’ve got something wrong with you that is going to kill you sooner rather than later.
And then I think, how selfish of me! Making other peoples’ tragedies all about ME.
It’s funny (strange, not ha-ha) how you go through these stages of your life. It starts when everyone is graduating. Then everyone is getting married. Then everyone is having babies. I am way too young, and nowhere near ready, to be entering the stage where you to go more funerals than you do movies in a year.
Thankfully, friends of mine are getting married this weekend, so in amongst all the sorrow is some cause for celebration.
Still, as a friend of mine pointed out, Three Funerals and A Wedding…does not a romantic comedy make.