Someone in my extended family died

A week ago, Eugenia was having a cigarette break on the top of the stairs. She had already boiled the chicken and washed the dishes. Two plates only and one fork, the so-called dishes had become less and less since the husband of the woman that hired her, had died. Her hands hurt while doing so, part of her rheumatoid arthritis. She was worried about her daughter, probably thinking how hard raising her on her own had been getting more and more complicated as she got into her teen years.

After putting the cigarette out, she must have gotten dizzy and fell down. She died as she rolled down the stairs.

Eugenia was part of our extended family. She silently watched me grow in the same way I watched her daughter grow up. I don't think she had an easy life, she was harsh with truth, honest to the point of being brutal. But she was also a kind, devoted mother and a goodhearted woman. She was far from warm and fuzzy but in her own way, you knew she included you in her set of worries because she cared.

Ever since my dad died, I know there's an end to life. Not before (even through previous losses of important people in my life). These sudden casualties now, make me instantly aware of how am I spending my time and with whom. Of how much I have contributed to others (because that's what life is all about) or to a community. 

I feel this summer was hard on my freelancing activities which left me for a while pondering how to achieve some continuity in cash flow to make more art. Yes, the eternal question. I guess I would like to think I'm at a crossroad. Maybe there are other ways to make a living and get paid for it. I know what I love to do and I will definitely explore those options in order to have more freedom. For now, by keeping myself useful and giving back to the music community seems to be the way to explore some of these.