Death seems to be a funny thing. There are those of us who have been touched frequently with the loss of loved ones, and others who witness it from afar. As life can be sometimes, it seems to weird to focus on the striking difference my husband and I play in these roles. For those of us in the first category, we all deal with it and discuss in so many different ways. So long ago, I never knew what to say to someone grieving. Now I know differently, for death and the fear of death haved seeped into my very being.
I remember hearing once, that the Lord gives us challenges in our lives that build our tolerance and ability to deal with specific trials. This thought alone stains my pillow some nights with fears of my son ever entering this category. And though I have experienced my fair share of death, this is the only one that I know would make my heart cease to beat.
I was young when the first deaths started to occur in my life. First, my grandfather, my mom's father died, when I was but a toddler. I wonder now as I have to explain death to my three-year-old, how my parents explained it to me, since their faith and knowledge of these matters varied so much from my own. We had a long berevement after that, not having any close relative die (to my knowledge) until my other grandfather, when I was 11. I vividly remember visiting him in the hospital for a brief moment before being sent back to my aunt's house, then remembering waking to the impression to look out the front window only to see my mom embracing my dad, crying. For a girl with a construction-worker dad, that was a sight I had never seen before, therefore declaring the horrible news. At such a young age, I'm not sure what sorrow I felt, but I'm sure there was sadness for his absence in my life and my dad's grief. A few years later, my parents close friend finally succumbed to AIDS and passed with us living across the country. We had been seperated for many years and I only remember feeling empathy of sadness from my parents grief. His death was followed by another close friend of theirs, dying of yet another disease, this one hurting me more deeply than the first because I had spent so much time with him in my early years and he is still present in so many of my childhood memories.
Then came the horrible trilogy that is still with me even after all these years. Say what you may about urban legends, but death came for me...in threes. My mom's only brother, her closet sibling, died of a heart attack in 2001. Again, I remember feeling sadness at his loss, but mainly for my mother who had lost someone so close to her heart. The following year, on a seemingly ordinary day that will haunt me until the day I, in fact, die.... my mother was ripped from my life in a car accident. Up until this point in my life, I always thought how odd it was to be part of such a normal family of four. So ordinary, a mother, a father, a son and a daughter. Never again would we be ordinary. Her death, tragic in so many ways: Not seeing my brother graduate high school, then me college, us both married, having her grandchildren. Tragic each year as new things happen, how life changes, keeps going and yet, she's not here to witness any of it, to give much needed advice on so many subjects. Then the trilogy coming to an end the next year, as my mom's mother, died on a visit here for my brother's graduation. Solidifying the never ending cycle that our family is doomed to have the constant fear of death and heartache close by.
After that, my family was given a reprieve to somewhat recover, until this year. My dad's eldest brother died along with my husband's grandfather.
Life is so fragile. So easily ended here on this earth. And yet, it still seems so odd that these people can leave us so quickly and unceremoniously, shocking our system and having us scream and yell "Why?"
Even with strong beliefs and knowledge of such a wonderful Gospel. That we all will live again and be together, death is still a hard issue to deal with. While someday we may be together, for now, we are not. Without this knowledge, I cannot see how anyone could go on living.
This week I am reminded of death again, at the loss of the first soldier I have known in a war where so many have died. Oh how the reality sinks in when it's someone from your own universe to have gone. I hope and pray that his family can continue on with their lives and some sort of solace in the Gospel, that they too, thankfully, believe in.
We each deal with issues in our own way. I will advise any seeking guidance as to what to say to someone lost in grief. There is nothing you can say, but "I'm sorry." If it appears that person wishes to be left alone, please do so. I basically had to be rude to one one aunt, at my uncle's funeral. His daughter had sought solitude in a room at the funeral home and it was asked of me to go to her and comfort her. I would not, for all I could remember was my mother's and even grandmother's funeral. I was wandered, looking for seclusion only to be found and pestered with questions when all I wanted to do was be alone with my thoughts and let the grief wash over me as it should.
I have just read a wonderful blog post from a friend of mine. It may causes tears, but it's worth reading for anyone who has lost a loved one.
http://tracypulley.blogspot.com/2010/10/thoughts.html
Thank you, Tracy.
