The Jozen One

It was simple really.  Her life was a series of finding out too late who the catty, jealous, vindictive women were. Little did they know, although she looked tough...she hurt deeply, cried privately, and was very unlikely to retaliate.  Someone once told her that to stop trying would mean the end of real friendships. So, she just picked up the pieces and moved onto the next place.  She was desperate to find other women who would love her ways that she was different from them. It was simple really.  Her life was a series of sisters who leave, women who crush, and all the messy little in betweens.

We start with Baby books, cataloguing everything so that we can look back and remember.  We write down the first words, first steps, first teeth, first birthday, first teacher…and on and on it goes. After attending a funeral a few months ago, I remembered one thing that was so prevalent in my mind during times when I’ve had to say goodbye at a funeral. You want to remember and hang on to the last time you had a moment with them…and it occurred to me that when we are cherishing life events, what we usually don’t write down are the “lasts”. Recently I was struck by the importance of cherishing somethings for the possibility that it will be the last. I tell people now, how one day my husband and I looked at each other and with tears in my eyes I said, “I didn’t know that last year was the last time we’d ever do that as a family.” Although I know that this happens often when there is a loss of life in a family, how often do we try to cherish these things with those who ...