An exercise in futility?

*or*
I really, really wish I could do something.

Yesterday I discovered my ex’s sister is dying of cancer. She’s my age and she’s dying of cancer. I don’t expect this statement to mean the same thing to you as it does to me. I mean, young people die everyday from these things, yes? I know I’ve read about people who weren’t very different from me- getting sick, adjusting... dying.

There’s that sad place in your heart that holds these things for you and I wonder if people have always had that place- or if we’ve had to develop it recently to combat all the accumulated heartache. This place- it holds grief like a bowl and stares at the contents wishing it had something to say.

Sometimes you find yourself sinking into those emotions- reaching towards something you want to fix and save. On arm steadies you on the lip of the bowl, the other stretches far in and you can end up overturning the entire thing if you’re not careful. This is what happened to me when I heard about Hannah.

I found myself on my knees, bawling my head off. Stephanie was on her way over and when she arrived, she rocked me like a child and told me I was going to be alright. Well, duh- I knew *I* was going to be okay but what about Hannah. But was I really crying for her or my dad or myself?

I told myself on my 27th birthday that I wasn’t going to be living in Mpls when I turned 28. I’ve spent a huge chunk of the time since traveling- trying to figure out where to be. I’ve narrowed it down considerably... but what other steps have I taken? Am I just waiting? For what? We all have a limited amount of time here. Hannah might not make it to the end of the year. What would you do if you knew you only had a moment in time left? I think my answers surprised me.