Beware

Tomorrow, I turn 20 years old.

I just read on facebook that one of my lecturers from first year passed away last night from a long battle with cancer. I didn't even like this guy. In fact, almost 99% of the people in our year disliked this guy because he gave the most boring lectures on monkeys and was a bit rambley and the rest of it. I still feel such immeasurable sadness that he is gone. He was part of a very important part of my life and I think he was a great person regardless of his monotonic voice and weird fascinations with bonobos.

I remember emailing him about an essay we were doing and he replied within minutes. Even though I called him "Brendon" instead of his name, "Brenton." I remember how we used to call him BK in a slightly derogatory but endeared fashion. I remember how a bunch of us tried to walk out in between a double lecture (he was giving the second one...) and, just as we got to the exit, he walked in through the same door. There was an awkward stare down.

I think it sucks that people who have so much to give go before their time.

I've been exceptionally teary over the last few weeks. In fact, over the last few years. I never used to cry unless I was seriously upset. Now, everything gets me. I sit around and bawl my fucking eyes out over Criminal Minds. In the FCP tute a couple of days ago, there was a real life scenario about these sisters, both with cystic fibrosis. They were real people from some years ago. In the last slide, we found out that the younger sister died during her last-resort lung transplant when she was 18. I had been nominated to read aloud that slide and there was an awkward crack in my voice as I read it.

It just all fucking sucks.

I feel like I'm still coming to terms that a lot of us die before we get to old, old age. Sometimes, I feel like I'm still coming to terms that we die at all. I remember when I was in year three or four, I found myself near hysteria when I realized my parents would die some day. My mum said I shouldn't think about it, that they still had at least 30 years left. I think that made it worse. Suddenly, all I could think was, "30 YEARS ISN'T FUCKING ENOUGH."

It almost feels unfair that people we love so much have to be parted from us one day.

Sometimes, I wonder what the point of living is if we all just die anyway. Why do we bother with life when it's always filled with so much pain and loss?

I used to wonder this when I was in the middle of one of my bouts of misery/depression. And then a month later, I'd be all right again and having the time of my life. Maybe that's an exaggeration. I rarely have the time of my life but there are times when I'm so happy and filled with love. And then it becomes worth it again because there's nothing quite like having a good laugh or being with the people you love or enjoying a nice meal (I really had to add that in there...).

This blog post turned out to be a fair bit more depressing that I intended. What I was trying to say was that I'm grateful for every one of you who brings happiness to my life. 20 years isn't enough to fully appreciate what I've been given; a chance to know wonderful people and spend time with them. Even if I die tomorrow, I will have met so many great people and enjoyed a wonderful childhood with a loving family.

75, 80, 90, 100 years aren't enough but we make do with what we have. Everyday is still a treasure.

J