One of my dearest friends recently had a seizure and spent three days in the hospital. He emerged a little shaken, and for the first time that I can remember, looking a little older. He has no memory of it. When he picked up his harmonica to play at the party two days after he got out, there were cheers - for his recovery, his talent, his ability and determination to continue, for his life.
Those of us that love him now must learn some new skills. How not to treat him as if he's fragile or somehow different. How not to be watching for any sign of weakness or forgetfullness. How not to be careful with him as if he's less than he was or do for him as if he can't for himself. How not to hover or suffocate or spy or jump to his rescue if he drops something or become wary if he forgets a lyric. These are things are born of love, caring, and more than a little fear and I think they will be difficult to overcome. He is precious to us.
After a certain age, none of us really need to be reminded that our lives have limits. This we know and we live in spite of it or around it or because of it. Each life touches a multitude of others, some in ways we may not even be aware of. Life is about falling and getting back up, time and time again and if we're paying attention, each bruise will teach us something and each broken bone will be a lesson.
We all need to learn to handle each other with care 'cause in the end, we're all we've got and time is flying. In the meantime, my much loved musician friend will play on. Neither his time or his music is finished just yet.
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