Passing of an Old Friend – Diet Day 49
I don’t deal well with death. I blame this on my parents. My dad doesn’t handle death at all and so he thought it would be best to shield us from having to deal with the mental and emotional stress that goes along with it. Of course it helped that I was blessed with four grandparents who lived well into my adult years so I didn’t really lose anyone close to me until after I was married.
Not being exposed to people dying definitely did not prepare me to handle it when it actually happened. I was ill equipped to deal with the loss and found myself struggling to understand death and my feelings. I understand that death is a natural progression but and that it will one day happen to all of us but that doesn’t necessarily make me feel better.
Recently my life has been rolling along quite well and for the most part I have been happy. Granted there are always trials that we have to deal with but in the grand scheme of things life has treated me very well.
My health is getting better and despite the struggles and unknowns I’m still dealing with I feel better than I have in a very long time. My wife and children are likewise quite healthy and finding success in their individual paths they have chosen. My parents are both doing well and my mother’s health seems to be getting stronger.
With all of the goodness going on around me I should have known that something bad would happen. In my life I have learned that the universe must be in balance. For every positive there needs to be a negative to keep the world on an even keel.
This morning started out well enough. I awoke from a good night’s sleep eager to start another day. My morning ritual was the same as every morning up until I received news of the passing of an old friend.
Just before getting into the shower I went to step on the scales to sneak a peek at what my weight was before tomorrow’s weigh in. Just as I lifted my foot to place it on the scale Trina said, “the scale is broken.”
What did she say? Trina’s words did not register and I continued towards the scale. “It is not working, I think it died.”
Nooooooooo! How could this happen? A scale was taken in the prime of its life. It seems like just yesterday we met. It’s large dial and medical looking countenance gave an error of regal importance. That first encounter led to an immediate friendship.
I thought back over all the times we had together. That scale was there when Trina was pregnant with Dakota measuring each pound until our son was born. It was there for me when I had three shoulder surgeries carrying my weight when I couldn’t even lift it myself.
Granted not all the times were good. There were days when we hardly spoke. And we had our share of disagreements usually over weight. That scale could be brutally honest and while I know it only did that for my benefit it was still hurtful.
But lately we had renewed our friendship. That scale was there for me every time I needed a little boost. No one was more supportive during my weight loss than that scale. It’s sad to think my old friend will not be there to see me complete my journey.
So tonight as I mourn in silence I decided that I will dedicate these last few pounds to my good friend the scale. He’s in a much better place now where there are no fat people that he has to carry. He is there with the other weights and measures and I am sure he is looking down right now and saying, “don’t cry and for heaven’s sake put down that last bite of asparagus neither of us needs that extra few calories.” Rest in peace my old friend.