The dread and the glory

All you can do is put one foot forward sometimes. 2017 hasn't been kind so far. Our loyal companion of 15 years with thick, beautiful golden fur passed. She was a sweet dog who loved to swim, kayak and hike up hoodoo's. 15 years was too short, but she was tired, had labored breathing, and in pain and looked at us with mournful cloudy brown eyes and seemed to ask us with those eyes, please my friends, let me go, and we did. After a week of sobbing sporadically at our loss the cell phone rang and on the other end was a woman's voice, all choked up and lump in the throat announcing that her husband had died. My spouse and his friend were like two little boys sometimes going on adventures, and now his second friend in one week was gone, taken suddenly. I could go on telling you of the other tragedies that have befallen us so far this year but I doubt you would believe it, we've lived it and even I'm having trouble believing it. But a queer thing happened, because we were forced to look at the fragility of life and the majesty of life with all new eyes. It's like blinders came off our eyes. We want to show and tell our loved ones how much they mean to us, how much we love them. Not only is each day more important to us now, each second is such a gift from God and we want to live, really live with joy and a heart filled with an awe, with wonder of the beauty, the tragedy, and a new reverence for this fleeting thing called our life.
I want to get out of bed in the morning, stand outside, close my eyes, and feel the warmth of the sun on my face. If it's raining I'll let the cool raindrops cascade down my cheeks as I have one more sob, and let the rain wash over me and reknew my spirit once again and experience the glory of life.