Just a few months in and tragic events have revealed that the Year of the Rat has been most unlucky. Miss Cheapist finds herself reeling from deaths of two significant figures in her life, trying to make sense of seemingly unpredictable cycles of fate. Shortly after the Lunar New Year, Miss Cheapist held a small dumpling party and then set off to a vacation in Akumal, Mexico. The vacation was long awaited, and one of the few in recent years that did not require her to fulfill any obligations or accommodate the needs of others. In effect, it was the first “selfish” trip that she and her partner had taken since their nuptials two years earlier (i.e. no weddings to attend or family in attendance)…quite a luxury indeed. Not that they were complaining; the past few years had granted them great fortune: a blowout island wedding, generous support from loved ones, and several subsidized family vacations (as documented in this blog). Actually, there were moments where Miss Cheapist really didn’t believe she deserved any of it, and felt that with the excess of good fortune, there would be some kind of ‘correction,’ when the proverbial ‘other shoe would drop.’ She tried to commit a few good deeds in an effort to compensate for the footprint of indulgence that she was leaving behind. Gratuitous, yes, it seemed perfectly reasonable at the time. You see, in spite of her complaints about expensive urban life and her sense of entitlement to the accoutrements of a neo-Gilded Age NYC, Miss Cheapist secretly felt quite blessed. So when they received the call informing them that a parent had suddenly died on their first day of the vacation, it seemed that it was their turn to experience something unimaginably unfortunate. Although the two were no strangers to unexpected deaths and familial loss, their previous streak of good luck and their unwavering desire to take a vacation on their own, as well as the eternal nature of their parents made this loss seem particularly unjust. In those first days of shock, so much was uttered in grief, and even more they feared to say out loud. It was at this time when the natural feelings of their own special-ness surfaced, the sense that bad things could not possibly happen to good people. After all, this can’t be our life.
Without organized religion or coherent faith in a higher being, it seemed that the universe was guided by a nameless cheap bastard who only doled out happiness in small servings, and decided quite arbitrarily and prematurely whose turn was next. For the believer, one might similarly wrestle with the deeper meaning of loss, and yet might find comfort in the fact that “everything happens for a reason,” that human beings do not belong to the world of the living, but instead are gifts from God, spending time on earth for a limited time to leave an imprint, but little more. And of course, there is the belief that the deceased enter a world where they feel no suffering, a place that we can’t even pay to get into.
Miss Cheapist may be entering the dangerous territory of uninformed religious interpretation, so she will pause, only to say that in a time period when faith is consumable and believers can vote with their feet, all these points of view were examined in the process of grieving. Even superstition and a curiosity about “crossing over,” were entertained. Dreams were interrogated for deeper messages from the dead, and Miss Cheapist wondered if we receive clues that our lives will be cut short. In effect, do some live larger because they know even more than others, that nothing lasts forever? Should we all just try to live excessively, and throw caution to the wind? Or is caution necessary to prevent accidents and injury? In a world that seemed so possible to control and organize, Miss Cheapist saw all the patterns recede and the equations of fate impossible to balance. Although it was just two months ago that all this happened, time stopped and stretched thin, and Miss Cheapist remained in the world of the living, wondering just what the future held.
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