In the book of short stories that is my life I was happy to close the last chapter penned by Alanis Morissette. Her unyielding theme of “isn’t it ironic?” made me not want to answer her follow up question of “don’t’cha think?”
The trigger event that made me default back to "irony" in my life is simple. Monday I called to setup a session with a tried and true grief counselor, Christina (for those uninitiated, 2008 was the year of death for too many family and friends). You can imagine my surprise when the voice on the other end of the phone quietly relayed the following information:
“I’m sorry but she passed away this weekend due to complications from a car accident last Thursday.”
As I searched for the appropriate reply the secretary helped me out and interrupted my mental silence with a gracious “feel free to call back on Wednesday, we will have more information then.”
In the past 12 months I have learned many things about myself, one being that I can find something funny in almost any situation. This was not one of those situations, at least not initially.
Monday already had me down for the count with the creepy crud that everyone at work has so freely shared. My eye wouldn’t stop twitching, my nose was running, and my joints were sore – especially me knees. I was hopped up on over the counter cocktails and trying to sleep through the Rock Band marathon my perma-high pothead neighbor was participating in. While buried under my 5 blankets it hit me.
My epiphany of grief counseling is that I am able to deal with this situation without needing to talk to someone about it. I can recognize how I deal with this set of circumstances in my life and it is manageable. I kept thinking:
Christina would get a good laugh about all of this. If she can, so can I.
Embrace the irony of life, if you don't have enough I have an ample supply and I'm willing to share.
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1 comment:
Man... that IS the definition of irony... its just too bad this isn't a song...
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