Life is Short

Yesterday, everyone around the country learned that Jack Layton died at home, surrounded by loved ones. He was unsuccessful in his battle with cancer.

When he announced this summer that he was taking a leave of absence for cancer treatment, I like many many others around the country fully believed that he would be back as promised for the fall sitting of Parliament. Hes a fighter. He has tenacity. Strength. And he beat cancer once before. No big deal.

Before learning of his death I was mulling over a number of decisions regarding my single life. Now, politics and love do not go hand in hand usually, but I am going somewhere with this, so bear with me.

I was honestly ready to throw in the towel, to say "screw you love!" and was thinking that may be I was meant to be single for the rest of my life and have very torrid love affairs instead. I was thinking that may be there isn't one person for each of us. That there isn't such thing as a soul mate. Heck, I even went so far as to name my closest besties as my soul mates to help alleviate pressure off of myself in finding that "special someone".

A lot of these feelings had been brought upon by a couple of things.

First, one of my best guys friends has been super down in the dumps for the better part of the last year, may be more. It seriously kills me when I see him like this. He has a sadness about him that is palatable. He loved his ex with a passion that I could only hope to attain one day. And now he is a shell of himself. Not happy with home, work or life really in general. He is generally one of the most optimistic people I know, always happy, excited about life, smiled easily and was so willing to share himself in hopes of finding that special someone.

Knowing him like I do, I thought to myself, if someone that had such zest for love could become embittered towards it, what hope do I have in the grand scheme of things?

The other thing was trying to determine what I really wanted out of love and how much I wanted to give of myself. In the last few months, I have been accused of "being too busy" or "working too much" or "lacking the ability to acknowledge emotional responses from people" ... its hard for me to explain that the reason I do this, is because its a habit. Not because I like it. Its plain and simply a habit. One that was formed out of necessity of not having things to go home to at night, so keep busy and by the time you do get home, its time for bed! Call it avoidance or a defense mechanism, whatever. Habits are hard to break and frankly, I have no idea what I would do with the time on hand otherwise.

And then, Jack Layton died.

I read his letter to Canadians in full. And the ending of the letter, as for most people, brought tears to my eyes. I certainly did not agree with the man's politics, but I do fully agree with his last words:

"My friends, love is better than anger. Hope is better than fear. Optimism is better than despair. So let us be loving, hopeful and optimistic. And we'll change the world"

I readily admit that I was angry, fearful and was on my way to being in despair. But life is short. Too short. I no longer have time to be angry, fearful or even think of despair. It's time to stop dipping my big toe in the water to test the temperature. It's time to just jump right in with both feet, cause hey! that's optimism right? Thanks Jack.