I Want To Be A Bear...

Sub-arctic temperatures have now graced the Calgary region. Not that we should be all that surprised because after all, it is Calgary, but still, after the semblance of summer we received late in the season, this is not a welcome change. We have been spoiled and now like spoiled children we want to fight and kick away this dreadful weather.

I hate the cold.

I would really fare better if I had been a bear. These last few warm months I would have spent gathering and eating all the food I possibly could, then as soon as the good old weather channel announced the accumulative snow coming our way along with cold, cold, cold, I would have got up, stretched and said, "That's my cue..." And off I would go to my warm, fuzzy den not to be seen again until Balzac Billy said it was okay.

But I am not a bear. Nor will I ever be one. Unless I believed in reincarnation but then, that would open up a whole other can of worms.

Speaking of reincarnation. Does anyone REALLY know what happens to us after we die? I've been asking myself this question more and more since the onset of my new found gray hairs that are becoming too numerous to do a damn thing about. Colouring my hair would only hide the inevitable. Pulling them out would probably leave more bald patches than any woman should ever have to live with and face it, just too much darned work. So I have decided to leave them for now. But it does bring up questions of mortality.

I know, I know. I'm still young. Should have at least 40 good years left in me, if all goes well. But I can't get those thoughts of decrepitude out of my mind. Recently, I have watched my grandmother, now 85 years old, having trouble standing without assistance. And when she walks, oh good lord, a snail could outrun her. Is that what I have to look forward to? Because if it is, I don't want it. But my grandmother is okay with the idea of moving on. Says that my grandfather is waiting patiently for her, will be ready for her when she finally decides it's time to let go.

So what happens when the final breath finally leaves your body, all the organs that have kept you going for all these years, finally runs out of energy and decides it's time for them too, to rest.

Atheists believe nothing. That when you die you go into the earth and decompose with the worms. Other religions believe in the concept of heaven and hell, reincarnation, moon phases, earthly elements and so on. All these different beliefs designed to bring peace, faith, love, and happiness. It doesn't matter what you believe. Whatever faith helps get you through the day is great in my opinion. Whatever helps you to prepare for the next phase, thumbs up.

And now I don't know how this post has gotten away from me. From cold and snow to bears and the contemplation of aging and eventual death. It's one of those things that you just know is going to happen and there is absolutely nothing we can do about it. I like to try and think of it as going to sleep and just not being aware of anything around you.

I don't think it's so much the thought of death, it's the thought of dying young. The thought of missing my children grow up and having children of their own. The thought of having to deal with the loss of my own husband. Because I am sure he will go before I will. And I saw the pain that my grandmother suffered when my grandfather passed away.

You know what? This is just too much and too deep for this miserably cold and snowy day. I think I will go grab another cup of coffee and watch Strawberry Shortcake with my daughter.