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Eleven years ago, I was a young overwhelmed mother of two beautiful little girls. Money was tight, and I was just trying to figure out how to get a grasp of the daunting task of being a stay at home mom, without going crazy. I spent a lot of time feeling sorry for myself.

I had to have my gall bladder removed, and was scheduled for a same day procedure. Unfortunately, complications arose, and I had to be hospitalized for a full week, until I was healthy enough to go home. I spent a week, sustained by iv fluids and Demerol injections. This gave me more reason to feel sorry for myself, except, I didn't. As it turned out, those complications were the best thing to ever happen to me.

Maybe it was the lady in the bed next to mine. She had no family to visit her. She had complications on top of an already complicated health history. Yet she was grateful. For the friends she had made in the city. For her faith in G-d.

Perhaps it was seeing the face of my oldest daughter on the one day the visited me. When she came to my bed, and chattered about her adventures, I felt like I was looking at her for the first time. Every gesture, every word, I soaked it in. How beautiful and perfect she was, and in my daily routine, I'd forgotten to be grateful.

Or the walk I took in the hospital hallway. As I traveled slowly, in hospital slippers, attached by a needle in my thumb to my rolling iv, I couldn't help notice the other patients. They laid in gray rooms, alone. Staring blankly at blaring televisions. Alone. And then I came upon a room, filled with flowers and photographs, stuffed animals and construction paper artwork. And just as I thought, how lucky for that person, I realized, that person was me.

It hit me on that day, that I'm a princess. Not in a bad way. In the best way possible. I am completely blessed with love and health and family, and its always been there. I guess I didn't realize how lucky that made me. It was a simple fact of life, but oh my, not everyone has it so good.

I left the hospital, a little bruised and battered, but healthier than I have ever been. Grateful, finally for my blessings. Since that day, I have always called the experience the worst, best thing that ever happened to me.

This morning, we learned that Gregg's 21 year old cousin died, suddenly, inexplicably. Brilliant and musically gifted, he was battling addiction issues, but on the road to success. He leaves his parents, a brother, a sister, two nephews, a niece and his Grandmom (our Me-mom) Ruth.

They say every experience in life has a lesson. I don't like this one. I don't like that people that we love and care about are experiencing the worst kind of grief. I don't like the slightly nauseous feeling that I'm carrying with me today. I don't like that Gregg is so beside himself he doesn't know what to do. I don't like that my daughters feel sorrow.

But, will my daughters attend that funeral, and see first hand what drugs can do? Yes. Do I look around my overflowing house today, filled with the girls' friends and not feel overwhelmed? Yes. Do I look at my husband, who I spent the evening bickering with last night, and see him with extra tenderness? Yes. And I see my life, and remember again, how extraordinary it is. How what I normally perceive as mundane and overwhelming is really the greatest gift of all.

I don 't want this lesson. I don't want to feel this way. But, in times of sorrow, I have to find a way to process it. And this is the only way I can right now. I can be grateful for the blessings in our life, and be thankful for today, for we never know what will be tomorrow.