Saturday, February 21, 2004
qzen42 feels 
Requiem for a Mazda
What a long strange week it's been. A week ago Thursday, the mother of a close friend died after an extended health struggle further complicated by Alzheimer's disease. The funeral was Monday. I joined another HS friend to complete the complement of pall bearers. Monday was biting cold, in the teens. Chilling cold with sun is only slightly less morose than rain for a funeral.
I was happy to be able to support my friend. Funerals are always a difficult time. I also had to bid farewell to our Mazda 626. Its transmission gave out on Rt 501 at the top of the Bethel mountain, about five miles from my Mom's home. I was deeply grateful for my cellular phone; it spared me a walk to civilization. A quick call, and Mom shuttled me to the funeral, the wake and on to get a rental car until we decided the fate of the Mazda.
There is a subtle irony at work here. Certainly the demise of a car is in a different place than the death of a friend or loved one. But it carries its own form of loss. This week was fraught with reminders of middle age. Death. Decay. The Mazda had 198some thousand miles when it gave up. It was 12 years old. Pretty respectable, actually. If it hadn't chosen to commit suicide, euthanasia was a realistic alternative.
Meanwhile, my aging body is sending me little warnings as well. My lower back muscles are rebelling against my creeping weight (and belly). I still am quite active, but extra weight takes a toll on my back, my joints. I am not one to whine (oy, my aching ______ ), but I do take notice.
At work, I find myself staring into an almost certain career change.
Kinder Interruptus.
breathe.
evolve.
laugh.
