Empathy

Close your eyes and imagine the scenario.  The doctors come in.  They tell you there's nothing more they can do.  The cancer has spread and is too far advanced for treatment.  Major organs are impacted.  Your lungs.  Your liver.  It's invaded your spine.  How do you feel?  Do you go home and tell your significant other and your kids that you are scared?  Do you shut down?  Do you continue to watch whatever mundane television show has roped you in?  Do you venture on to Facebook as an escape from reality?  Do you tune into the Colbie Caillat station on Pandora because the sad melodies echo your feelings?  Or, do you go into overdrive and try to make the most of what's left of your life?  I have to imagine I'd get angry and think "F%*k this! I should have drank and smoked like a chimney while I had the chance!" But of course anger is only one stage of several when it comes to grief.

The above scenario happens daily, by the second even. I was recently told that a favorite teacher of mine is in a very similar situation.  My heart aches for her family and all those who have enjoyed her spunky self over the years.  A facebook page for updates and well wishes has been created.  We're at over 200 members and it's only been an hour.  Quite amazing to see just how large our little K-12 school's alumni network really is. With that being said, I'll leave you with a thought a friend of mine posted today:

Stay in the moment folks.