Funerals

Pat died last week (Thursday 19th June) and I went to her funeral a few days ago (Thursday 26th). She would have been fifty in August. Most days we focus on how we feel and what needs to be done (shopping, work, DIY, what's on tele, booking a holiday, visiting relatives). Fortunately, it's rare to stop and contemplate the end of life and when a friend dies you inevitably think about yourself whilst telling yourself you really should focus on them. Having said that, I can't stop thinking about Pat. She celebrated new years eve with us and was so full of life. She died of cancer. I was fine in the church, until I turned around to see her son and his cousins carrying the coffin. He's twenty and a good friend of my son, they are both planning on going to University later this year, in Manchester. I started to cry and noticed my wife was failing to hold back the tears. We held each other as the coffin was carried to the altar. We both realised how lucky we are to have each other, no words were needed. We both vowed to live for each day though we never spoke. Later that evening we were quietly grateful and respectful. It won't last. Life goes on. We are impatient and irritable. We often forget how precious life is. It's readily spent with little to show. Life doesn't begin at fifty at all. It begins today, and every day.

Longest day

I've just returned from restaurant. I had a meal out with my wife. Saturday night on the longest day, which was nice as it was light until late evening (light until 10pm). There's something magical about light evenings. I got up, this morning at dawn (4:30am), to take my son and his girlfriend to the airport, so it feels like a long day.

Perfection is an Illusion

As I watched my daughter draw, she complained that her drawing was poor (she's 12 years old). I started to think that she was lucky that she thought it poor as this critical ability enables us to improve. What happens when you don't think your drawing is poor? When you actually think its good? Where do you go from there? Perhaps it is good, but how would you know for sure? The fact is, that if you cannot see anyway to improve it, then it's "perfect". So, perfection is a perception brought about by your state of development or growth, and perfection means the end of progress. It's the final stop on your journey. Now, I beleive in continual development or improvement. So from this it follows that I cannot believe in perfection. Perfection is an illusion brought about by maturity as you stop growing. I also beleive in being satisfied. I get irritated by "nit picking". How can you be satisfied if nothing is perfect? Easy, you accept "good enough". It helps you sleep at night.

Work

I remember my Grandmother telling me that as you got older time passed quicker. This was interesting when I was ten as at that age time often stretched out in front of me. A day could be a long time. A year was a lifetime.

Today, in work, a day is never enough time to complete even a few tasks. I wrote down two things "to do" this morning, both urgent. So many meetings and interruptions later that it now looks as if one of these things will have to be done this evening.

Why can't we work in work?

First post

Does life end? Does life begin at fifty, if so when does it end? I'm forty eight (well almost). I have a family, a job and a dog. This is my story.