...I was too busy gathering gems.

They say bad news comes in threes, I suppose I waited so long to do this bit because the third event did not happen until the wee hours of this morning. (Nothing like cutting it close for a deadline. Leslie just loves it when I do it this way) I can't help but wonder if I had included some other horrific event (I had several others to choose from) as my third demon, maybe what happened this morning would have waited. Ah, but then it may have been the first of another string of threes. Facing another month of emotional turbulence as I have this April, to put it simply, would hurt like hell. I have no problem turning down seconds in this "all you can eat buffet".

They also say (whoever "they" is anyway and how did "they" become so wise?) that as we age, things of grave responsibility and looming end become part of our everyday lives. You mean Peter Pan is only a story and the lost boys are really grownups now? Damn! Where is that pixie dust when you need it? I suppose I can't change the natural course of things as much as I would like. So, as my cursed or blessed character shall eternally be, I bounce back and glean from life experiences what gems I can. Will I become a stronger person for facing tragedy in life? Yes (there's a diamond). Will I become more compassionate? I hope so (there's a ruby). Will the hurt of the next one be less? No, but it will be less frightening (there's the sapphire).

The month of April has seen fit to rain on me to many facets of life; anguish and ecstasy, death and life, sorrow and euphoria. So why then, in their infinite wisdom, do "they" say only bad things come in threes? I will not have it! I am determined to say that good things come in threes as well. Without getting all "circle of lifeish"; I will present to you some of the good gathered from less than perfect situations.

Though the death of a loved one, or two in this case, is a hard thing to confront, it is one experience that I find a wonderful freedom in. Not to worry, I'll not fill these pages with my views of angelic metaphors or spiritual rites of passage from one life to another. These things I have no substantial indications of and our faith systems vary beyond any single point of view. However, the lessons of living and living through situations that are not what you would exactly call pleasant are played out through my eternally rose colored glasses. I choose to live in the realm of learning the blessings from the seemed curse. Yes, I see the silver lining of the threatening thunderhead (there's the topaz). Yes, I see the innocence in the person who cuts me off for no apparent reason while in rush hour traffic (there's the garnet). So it only stands to reason that somehow, twisted or contrived as it appears, like the bending a horoscope to fit the situation that day, I will enjoy the best of the bad situations fully.

Death is not a pleasant thing, weather expected or not. It's messy, it's inconvenient, it's draining and it is humbling to all who experience it, both living and dead. The death of my 95-year-old grandmother was long awaited. It does not make the passing easier, but it did make it more of a blessing to see her go, in a sleep that never wakes, quietly after the months of struggling. She fought hard. There was something left undone it seemed. Something that had to befall our family before she would take her leave. Perhaps the visit of a loved one not seen for a long time? Perhaps the privacy of dying alone is what she wanted? She did not tell, but when she decided it was time, it was after a visit from me and after my vigilant mother had left her side but for a moment. In life she lived by her unyielding terms, it only came to reason that her death would be the same. Where is my gem, you ask? No regrets! (there's the amethyst) Life gets busy and we let it scream out of control. We are so busy acting it out that we forget to live it. Neglecting the little things such as telling those you love, that you do. Finding it difficult to be forgiving, genuine, caring, strong and vulnerable when needed. When people are gone, they may not be gone spirituallyÖhowever, our regrets are not cast on the spiritual, but the physical. Our regrets lie not with the one whom has left us, but with ourselves, whom we wake with every morning. There are things that we cannot control, and these regrets will pass. Time takes those away, but the things we can control are a different matter. These are for us to deal with everyday, each time we see the living, because one day, they or ourselves will not be so, and where will the hearts be then?

The second death April threw my way was not as expected though not a surprise either. Here we stood in a cold hospital room with a living being, a mother, a grandmother, and a friend. One moment a spark in her eye, a glint of hope and then; just hours later, we received that chilling midnight call relaying that the very same person, loved, coddled, petted and adored was gone. It's a heart wrenching script made for teevee sweeps week. Silent moments followed, void of verbal utterances, but full of communication. People don't know what to say when someone dies. We respond for fear of saying or doing something "wrong". There in we miss the point completely.

This is the lesson of my second of the three. There is nothing you can do except be there (there's the rose quartz). Such transcending power dwells in a touch, a hug, or a tear shed in sympathy. To hold a broken and sorrow filled man in my arms as he weeps is nothing less than a spiritual union. There is great comfort in that touch, great relieving power that is shared in a caress that can carry the burden, at least for a moment. "I'll be there for you" is a term we use so often without thought of what it really means. Flippantly used, as is "How are you today?" and is thrown out there with little heart shames me, for I am as guilty as the rest in this. Not until this weekend past did I begin to understand what it means to really be there for a friend. Sitting quietly and rocking, saying nothing philosophical, nothing preachy, and no self-righteous utterances. What I learned was simply to be there to give a hug, wipe the tears, understand the scream, quell the fear and abolish the guilt. Time comes for the other things, for moving on and growing strong, but for the moment when grief is its freshest; just be.

The final of the three is not as dramatic, yet it is more frightening in some ways. Jury duty - god, we all have to do it. I've done it before, serving Federal Court several years ago in a drug sting trial. (LA Law it ain't, I can tell you that) Serving the system of justice our forefathers established (though I'd venture to say they'd cringe at how out of context we have taken some of their original thoughts) is an honor I don't take lightly. I hope for my own selfish sake, that should the defendants seat ever befall me, that those in the jury box would take seriously what they were about to do. To acquit or convict based on facts. Not opinions, but facts and the law. Are humans capable of this? Sometimes I wonder. It was a simple case of a simple man who made a simple mistake. Guilty, was the verdict that my 5 co-jurors and I turned in. Guilty: Having done wrong, deserving to be blamed or punished. (This is according to my Thorndike dictionary anyway). As loopholesish as the laws are, here we could not find one big enough to let this man walk away, knowing he had made a mistake not deserving of taking up space in our already over crowded prisions. Life is not so black and white and even the shades of gray outnumber the stars. I have done worse things in my life, deserving of punishment (maybe not jail time, but the kind of regret punishments that we self inflict) This man, for his honesty and childlike trust, ended up in jail. Yes, what he did was wrong - maybe what we did was worse.

No, I'm not a bleeding heart ready to take up every obscure cause (well, maybe I am; just a little bit) but the third of my walk away lessons is that justice and compassion are necessary partners (there's the pearl, one black, one white). Though justice must be served, compassion is the more humanitarian of the two. Justice is required because we as humans hold grudges, forgive little, and always want more than we deserve. Justice is required because there are some sorry-ass people who pull some sorry ass-stunts for no reason other than to boast that they got away with it. Compassion, on the other hand (is that why we have two hands?) allows us to be the stronger, the forgiver, the humble servant instead of the tyrant king. Either of these elements alone is useless and we become worthless for our extremes. Possessing both gives us a great sense of power when used appropriately, a balance that is difficult to grasp, much less hold tenaciously on to. We six common folk were the deliverers of justice. Compassion, we could only hope, would fall from the hands of the judge.

I'm off my soapbox now and my self-therapy session is finished and my gem box is a little richer. These three tragedies that have become my teachers will remain with me. Lifetime learning is the hardest and yet the most indelible method of personal growth. My small hurts compare nothing to many whose atrocities are unnumbered, but they are mine. Now, maybe they are part of you too and when your time comes to face these things, for they are common to us all, you may share what you glean from your tragically blessed threes.

Gail Boysen's excuse notes in grade school never involved her dog eating her homework.