Comfortably Numb

Today was a rough one. I fought with my 11-year old this morning, had the usual work-related stress, and found out during the work day that the little sister of an old friend had died of cervical cancer at age 37. Reading the article about it, I shed some tears at my desk, but it wasn't until after I'd tucked my kids in and called my boyfriend that I really let them rip.

Her death brought up a lot of sad feelings, feelings about lost friendships and the fragility of life. And it brought up this classic by Pink Floyd:

There is no pain you are receding

A distant ship, smoke on the horizon.

You are only coming through in waves.

Your lips move but I can't hear what you're saying.

When I was a child

I caught a fleeting glimpse

Out of the corner of my eye

I turned to look but it was gone

I cannot put my finger on it now

The child is grown,

The dream is gone.

I have become comfortably numb.

Reading about her bravery at the end of her life, how when the pain got to be too much she realized it was time to teach her daughter about surrender, I wanted, but couldn't find, a place of comfortable numbness.

I know it's better this way. It hurts, but these losses are supposed to teach us about the preciousness of life, and they can't do that as effectively if we refuse to feel them...