My life is a series of threes.

Everything seems to happen to me in lots of threes. Am I alone in this?

When the washing machine refuses to spin, no matter how many times you kick it and threaten it. (That’s one.) Then, sure as nuts, then lawnmower will go on strike (two), and the geyser will burst (three).

So much so, that as soon as something happens, I wait in anticipation for that number three to come along…

This last weekend, was a devastating series of three.

One

I sat drinking tea with a friend and listened to her chatter. Only this time, the nonchalent chatter was about ‘red devils’ — that’s the nickname, they give to her chemotherapy cocktails for her breast cancer. I laughed at the jokes (whilst my heart cried) she cracked, about her bald head and at the crochet fake boobs, she has made for herself. She had even baked the scones we were eating. She needed me to be the semblance of normalcy and laughter in her life, for just a moment.

Two

I went to the memorial service of a once close person in my life. I was more affected by their loss than I thought I would be. I had written them out of my life and now I realise, that through it all, they had loved me and I them.

As I came out of the service, number three arrived.

A friend undergoing a routine surgical procedure had died unexpectedly. We had become friends in a mother’s group, when our children were babies. Our adult children are now friends. Talk about a sucker-punch of a number three.

I am a worrier trying hard to be a warrior.

I tried to shield myself from the blows, be strong, be the one who others lean on.

I listened to other’s words of wisdom:

The universe is trying to tell you something here. Life is short. Live each day as if it is your last.

I thought about that. If I had to do that. I would hug my family non-stop (they would have to pee in their pants because I would not let go). I would never do the dishes or clean the house. I would eat fillet steak and chocolate. I would not lie on the couch in my pyjamas, watching a movie.

Now how long can you keep that up? That’s not real life as we live it.

So the warrior in me, took off her armour, curled up in a heap, battered and bruised and left the worrier to take over.

The words of wisdom came from the young ones. My own children!

Mom, you have to live life with the acceptance that when it is your time; it is your time.
You cannot choose it, you cannot change it, you have to accept it and be ready, in the way you live your life, that when it is your time, it is your time.

It was their time to go….

It’s a weird feeling, getting such wisdom from your kids. Then again, I did teach them everything they know!

So the worrier has become the warrior once more. A little shaken, and somewhat tender in the heart area, but ready to face the world again.

My family and friends know I love them with a love that is unconditional, fierce and also gentle and they know, that I always will. That’s all that I need, to be ready, for when it’s my time.

All I ask, is could the next set of threes, be a little more on the happy side of the scale of life….
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