It is not the futility of the thing or the fact that these things happen only to others or not at all; it is the feeling of helplessness that descends upon me like an ugly, itchy, dark & heavy blanket thatI know I can never shake off: I just have to live with it, until it dissipates, or I metabolize it, or I reach my personal fulfillment -- in which case I will have transcended the blanket... Unlikely although I bet that is what my friend is hoping will happen to me.
It is a situation where I cannot find something wise, or smart, or essential, or anything worthy of anything, to say.
As it has been said countless times, planning for the future is a futile exercise unless you are a young person or a large corporation. And of course any plans we had made with our friend our relegated into our past as historical trivia from back then, when things were much more comfortable.
Things were in place, then; people were alive and healthy, things ticked according to plan and if not, in a polite, accessible and foreseeable manner. Life ticked along well, none of the wheels in the life machine were out of place and all things needed to get better now and then was a small adjustment.
Now everything is upset; people one counted upon, the short-list of friends, the reliable few we had chosen to grow old together...
I know that one has to find comfort in life itself, life is its own underpinning.
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