Email

Email is both wonderful and frightening. I love receiving emails from friends and relatives. I enjoy the stories, the funny jokes, the interesting take on life, and the simple ease of sharing our experiences.
But recently opening my email box has become a source of trepidation. While waiting to hear the status of a friend undergoing treatment for cancer, I opened my email box expecting to read a dire update.
Instead of that update there was an e-mail from my cousin's daughter telling me that her mother had died the day before. Last I heard from my favorite childhood cousin, the one who was just a little bad and a lot of fun, she'd sent me a photo proudly showing off her reduced Weight Watcher's body. That was August 26th, and I was so busy, I didn't really notice I hadn't heard from her again. Then the email from her daughter telling me and so many others who loved my cousin, that Annie, who had been diagnosed with cancer 2-1/2 weeks ago was now dead. She was 62.
Then the news our friend -- the email I was waiting for -- was now on palliative care. I knew what that meant. Palliative care is when the doctors know there is no hope and a person is treated only with medication to keep them comfortable. He was diagnosed 2-1/2 months ago.
Today came the news that our friend had suffered multiple strokes and was now at home, surrounded by his wife, children, and other family members. And so, again, each time I open my email box, I feel some fear. I am waiting for the news I dread yet know will come. He, too, is young.
They both looked to be the picture of health with smiles that could light up a city. One is already gone and the other almost there.
It's no longer my parent's generation that is dying. It is mine.