Death is a funny thing. Well, death itself is sad. Devastating. Heartbreaking. I suppose I mean the concept of death. All that surrounds it, leading up to it, going through it and all that follows.
Death is natural and part of life because it's the end of one and reverberates in lives of those left that the one life touched.
I sound high.
I'm not.
I'm actually very awkward when it comes to death. I remember not knowing what to say to colleagues so kind of ignoring it until I realized it's almost too late to bring up so I would awkwardly give condolences. I can't think of a time but I'm pretty certain I may have never brought it up with some people. How awful.
After experiencing three deaths in the past seven years, I realize that it's better to say something than pretend nothing happened. If it's received awkwardly or oddly, that's OK. But to acknowledge that you see a person lost someone important in their life - that is worth the stumbling over words.
What I've known but have also seen (and experienced) is that some people lean a little too far in and want you to absolve them of a perceived transgression they may have done towards the deceased. Or they want to get rid of any guilt they may have. On you. Why they didn't visit, why they didn't call right away after learning of the death, why they feel bad for one thing or another.
THAT is annoying. I would prefer someone avoiding addressing a death over that. But that may not be everyone.
As for me, I know my grief looks strange. I went back to work, I continue to take my kids to all their activities, I move about and still laugh with friends. I even find humor in the grief. Because weird shit does happen. And yet.
Tears will well up when I think about how all the people I was born loving - the people I can remember from the time I started building up memories and a little before - are all gone. My Dad, my Sister, my Mom - the ones who, in turn, loved me and known me since birth aren't here anymore. Sure, I have god parents and and aunts and uncles who have known me since I was a baby. But the ones who I was born and raised to love, they are all gone. It's strange because it's something I never thought about until it was just my mom left. Yes, I have an older brother who I love. But we didn't grow up together. He had moved out before I was born and our relationship was different because he didn't raise me. It's not bad, it's just different. My mom, dad and sister raised me. And even though my sister left the house when I was 8, she was still a strong influence in my life. And somewhere along the way, she went from being a third parent to a best friend.
My parents, specifically my mom, played an active part of the village that raised my kids. We became closer in a different way because I better understand how hard it must have been to parent me. I also had a newfound gratitude of just how great they were as grandparents and how much my mom helped raise my babies.
Gone.
The memories will stay for as long as I can remember them but eventually, if we're lucky to have someone in the family create a family tree, we just become leaves of a tree.
This isn't a very thought-through post. I just knew I needed to write even if I didn't feel like writing. Which is why I avoided posting anything. But I know that I need to work through things rather than ignore them and hoping the feelings will eventually fade away.
