The Golden Thread of Life

 

When thinking about life, it is easy to understand why so many cultures have stories and legends about gods, goddesses, and all sorts of beings invested with power over the human life.  In times when diseases were not understood, it made perfect sense that someone, or something evil, caused afflictions.  Recently, it has been The Fates that occupied my thoughts. One Fate to spin the thread of life, one to measure that thread, and one to cut the thread to end life. Their work seemed capricious, taking down both good and evil gods, as well as mortal humans. In fact, their power over life and death made them the most feared and the most powerful of all the magical deities in both Greek and Roman mythology.

Three weeks ago, I was given health news that made me think of my own golden thread. How Atropos may have been sharpening her scissors not so far behind me. Meanwhile, Cotho, the spinner and Lachesis, the allotor, would continue to spin and measure until the scissor performed its duty.

 

I spent anxious days waiting until the "as soon as possible" test would confirm what I had already been told - a 90% chance of a heart attack — soon. I learned how capricious life is. Within two weeks I lost two friends. One who had called me to tell me she was going to die, and there was nothing to do for it, so she was at peace with it. She said she specifically called me to “make her laugh,” using my Laughter Wellness powers. And laugh we did.  We made plans for a short visit, depending on how her day would be going, but the Fates had other plans. On the day I was having my nuclear scan and stress test, she passed away in her sleep.  

 

This news came right after there was an unexpected turn of events for me. Had this been Ancient Greek, I would have sworn that Zeus intervened for me. After the testing, my doctor had called me and said, despite the frightful calcium score, my heart was just fine — not just fine, but strong, and there were no restrictions to blood flow. As he had originally predicted from my first visit, he instructed me to continue with my cholesterol meds, stay on the baby aspirin, and come back in six months. Atropos would have to wait.

 

As I was processing mixed emotions, three days later, a long-time friend died suddenly and unexpectedly. I could not comprehend it. My grief-stricken brain kept playing out the “why” and “what if” scenarios. As humans, the only guarantee is that you will die — your golden thread of life will run out. 

 

I know in my heart that there are no Fates pulling the strings. The world is full of religions, beliefs, theories, and superstitions. In times of grief, heartache, and loss, we seek out to make sense of tragedy through our beliefs.  Well-meaning friends offer condolences, prayers, meditations, hugs and helping hands. But in the end, Death holds all the threads, and leaves behind the scars of loss. Rose Fitzgerald Kennedy said it best:

 

“It has been said, 'time heals all wounds.' I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone.”

 

May all our wounds gently rest as scars, and memories of shared smiles and laughter weave a golden thread around our hearts, to bring us comfort.