Tim McGraw - Live Like You Were Dying

I've posted this song before, actually rather a lot.  Can't say I'm happy about it, that Life sometimes speaks in its Outdoors Voice.  Cancer took Dad.  It passed my older brother.  It's passed a buddy who used to work for me, one who's far too young to be dealing with this sort of nonsense.  Passed them by at least for now.

Tam is one of the spark plugs for our corner of the Internet.  She's justly known for her snark, but I also admire how she is one of the few truly educated people I've run across.  Better educated than I, in fact.  You can pick up a decent education with a daily visit to her site, along with some Google elbow grease to check the obscure references she tosses out.  The free ice cream there is nourishing indeed, if you look closely.

But her's is a big heart.  Tam is one of the best at linking to fledgling bloggers, bringing them to the attention of a broader audience than would ever know them.  If you think on it, she's one of the chief gardeners in our little Internet plot.  A blog gardener, if you will.

I should know - she left the very first comment here on this blog, and was the first to link to one of my posts.  I'm grateful for that.  But I'm not the only one she's linked to at that early stage.  I'm grateful for that, as well, bringing to me bloggers who make me think and bloggers who make me realize what it is to be human.  Bloggers like Brigid who actually does both at the same time.  Our community - for that is what makes this patch of Internet garden worth while - is a fragile thing, with seeds that will sprout in the right soil, with the right cultivation.  I should be a better gardener in our plot.

I should be as good as Tam.

We all of us find ourselves tested at some point in our lives.  At that time, we find ourselves staring into that Abyss, with the Abyss perhaps staring back at us.  Some of us are sending our wishes (and a little more) as she stands before that scene.  If you'd like, you can join us.

This is a meditation, as was Dad's journey, and Older Brother's successful battle, and my friend's similar victory.  I hope that Tam - like Older Brother, and my friend from work, and indeed all of us - lives to a ripe old age, admired by all who know her.  I hope that she lives all those days with the wisdom that comes from standing before that Abyss.  I rather suspect that she already does.

It's also a chance for the garden to look back at the gardener.  To think on Life, at its most loud. To think on life that, with Luck, is at its most triumphant.