It is a murmur

A quite touch, a gasp, a quiver;

A simple sign

A rise and fall, an in and out.

It is so fragile

So precious, glorious, special;

A delicate marvel

That points to all we hold dear.

Yet, but a moment

Is all time needs to snuff it out;

A simple second

To tear, and rip, and take.

Gone

In a fleeting instant, escaped;

To grace another's lips

To dwell in another place.

Please treasure this gift

Revel in its particular joys;

Love, smile, laugh

Take time to enjoy every Fragile Breath.

I'm feeling a little raw and on edge today. One of the artists I manage has recently had his family over to help celebrate the start of a great year, the times apart, which have brought such big things Rob's way. His dream brought him to the UK, and I have had the pleasure of working with him, developing and growing and molding his music career. To see them all together, so happy, so proud, so much a loving and special family unit, was heart warming, comforting, a special moment.

But life, in its wonderful way, has its own plan. And while today I really don't understand its method, or its madness, I must try to accept that in everything that happens, there is some reason that simple me cannot see or comprehend.

You see, one of the challenges of living in Africa is an illness known as Malaria. Treatable, there is medication that when you live in Africa, you pretty much take all the time if you live in an area of potential hazard. In this instance, Rob's mom ran out of her tablets while over here. She chose to remain quite, and risk the time they had together, till she could get home and get more tablets. The problem being, that here in the UK, we don't readily have available the powerful drugs used in Africa to control the illness. Why would we? As long as you follow the instruction of your GP and take the medication prescribed, as directed, when you make plans to visit Africa, you will invariably remain fine.

Not so if you should stop taking the medication, for but an instant, while the infection may be in your blood stream, and this was the case in this instance. In a matter of days, a strong, proud, smiling, wonderful woman was stolen, snatched from her family. So quickly no one had a chance to realise the danger. So decisively there was little anyone could have done. Gone. In an instant.

And now we deal with the aftermath. The effects of such a sudden and dramatic loss. Guilt. Blame. Shame. It is all there. Written in the eyes of people I respect and admire. I cannot touch them, fix it, change anything. I am helpless to do anything, and hell it hurts. It hurts as I know that a time similar to this, under different circumstances maybe, but just as final, tragic and gut wrenching waits just around the corner somewhere in my own life, and I feel vulnerable. Exposed, and weak.

I watch from a distance. There to lend a hand if needed, yet accepting that I am nothing at this time, unable to alter the course of life in anyway, might I so wish I could. Life is complex. It is woven with good times, interlaced with heartbreak and sadness. Finding the balance is the art we strive to discover as we play out our lives. I don't think we will ever fully understand why this roller coaster ride we are on exists, or why it can be so wildly changing, emotionally charged, or final. When it is good, it is dam good, but hell when it is bad, it is horrible.

Life is special, and it reminds me every day that it is finite, fragile and precious. Treasure what moments it gives you, and try if you can to spend as many moments happy. There is nothing to be gained in sadness, loneliness or despair. Die having done all you could do on that list of things you've always wanted to do. Live every day as if tomorrow is a word we've never heard, and this breath you've taken, is the the most special you have ever breathed.

Sound strange and unreal?

Yup, it does even to me. But somehow, in all the chaos and sadness I feel right now, I am desperately seeking a silver lining? Is that wrong? Hell, there has got to be hope, because without it, things suck.

A hug would be really good about now. I am going to close this down now while I can still see the screen and go get some comfort from an embrace with my mom.

Love to you all, and I really hope your week, day, month is shaping up to be a good one.

Ps. I can't be arsed to think about a quote for today's blog. Forgive me, I'll choose something extra special for the next one.