I have become a curmudgeon. This astonishes me because I am fiercely optimistic. When a pet dies I'm weepy for a week and then run to the animal shelter to find the next new love of my life. When something tragic happens, memorized phrases pop up and out, like Kahil Gibran's “...the deeper sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.” Sometimes the person experiencing the tragedy isn't ready to hear that, so I leave before launching into the Monty Python song & dance number,  “Always Look on the Bright Side of Life”. It’s sung by people nailed to crosses.

But I’m tired. I refuse to say "sick and tired" because that's an old person thing to say. It's bad enough I'm thinking it.

I am tired of political lies and insatiable greed. I’m tired of seeing discouraged and angry kids and adults giving up on them without making the effort to understand. But that's probably because the adults are discouraged and angry.  

I'm sick of commercials that make me want things I don't need. I hate that I walk down grocery aisles and hear myself humming jingles. It makes me sad that my two year old granddaughter’s favorite place to go is Target®.

I’m sick of all the documentaries that tell me how I should eat because I feel too tired to plant an organic garden and too poor to buy from speciality stores. People advise "Listen to your body." I do and mine says "Burger and fries." I think my body loves toxins and may rebel if I go healthy, like my vegan friends now battling cancer.

I watch the Daily Show and the Onion News Network instead of “real” news. I like my news twisted more than it really is, though that is a challenge. I catch a report on National Public Radio and think it must be Jon Stewart talking.

It used to be when I got depressed about the state of the world, I focused on what was in front of me: my life, my friends, my family. There were illnesses and deaths and family drama, but it wasn’t constant. Some years went by with nothing more tragic than a bad case of the flu. Now it's ridiculous: unemployment, cancer, foreclosures, cancer, deaths, cancer, heart disease, cancer, signs of dementia, cancer, cancer, cancer... People say it's going to get worse, the older I get. I now say what became my father’s favorite line... "Old age is not for sissies." Like any good joke it playfully tells the truth.

I am a hypocrite. I say this life is just the beginning, that death is a birth into the next realm of existance. I hear amazing stories from people with near death experiences and those stories confirm what I read in my faith’s (Bahá'i) sacred writings about incredible worlds beyond this one. 

I believe that. My own death doesn’t scare me. But I don't want anyone I love to die and they are.  

One day last week I crawled under my covers to escape. Soon there was a feeling of warmth and a gentle pressure, like someone was holding me. The feeling lingered and I relaxed, then cried. It was my father. He's done this several times since he died.  I know it means everything will be okay. But it may not be what I want. When I was a kid he made it his mission not to spoil me. “Punky, you’ve got to learn life won't always seem fair.”

I will get it together. I'll show this post to my husband and he'll take me into his arms and that will make me cry. When my body stops shaking, he'll say something to make me laugh. I will cherish this moment, and try not to think about the future.