Redefining what's tragic

This past winter, I was describing to a work friend a Louis CK bit about life and health in our 40s. In short, I said to her, I realized it would not be tragic if I died at this age. It's not like someone would read my obituary and think, "Oh, so young!" Childless and 44, I might elicit a "What a shame" or "Yeah, well. She lived a good life."

My friend was horrified. She and I are the same age and she spent the next six months exclaiming loudly that I would not think it would be tragic if she died. And, I had to admit publicly even though it was wildly out of context that, yes. That was true.

I bring this up because a woman I went to high school with died this morning [Edit: She was taken off life support this morning]. I wasn't friends with her in school and I'm not friends with her now. I don't expect any sympathy and I do not want anyone to say "Sorry for your loss." I abhor borrowed grief--the grief belongs with her husband, her family, her close friends, and her mother who, from what I understand, is now burying her third child.

I had recently reconnected with this woman through Facebook and we chatted via comment fields, mostly about her dogs--she loved dachshunds--but that was about it. We definitely weren't close. I am not a good person and I was not a good person in high school. I barely remember her from high school; I barely remember anyone from high school. And, I'm not very good at getting close with people. In fact, I'm mostly reluctant about it. I'm even uncomfortable typing her name here, because that makes it all so personal. But, it's Jenn. Her name is Jenn.

I've had many friends and acquaintances pass away over the years. But, I do find myself grieving Jenn's death in a peculiar way. She suffered excruciating back pain that seems to have led to a bad seizure from which she did not awaken. Her husband and family had to make a very difficult life-support decision this morning. It was all very sudden and very severe.

Jenn arranged our 25th high school reunion this past fall and I watched her on Facebook as she displayed her fondness for animals, her warmth for people, and her love for her gardens. She loved to sit on her deck and take pictures of her yard. She was, in her public FB life, a kind and affectionate woman. Although she was clearly in pain, her last post on FB was about firefighters saving animals. Prior to that, she was reminding people to visit Boyltson Street post-marathon bomb to support local business. And, now, that's it. Her page has turned into a memorial filled with prayers and well wishes, as do all FB pages belonging to the recently deceased.

I thought about Jenn as I ate my lunch today on the deck while looking at the yard. I plan to do some yard work and I plan to snuggle my dog. A lot. In this way, I can honor a lovely woman, grieve for her family, and acknowledge that, yes, death at 44 is actually very tragic.