Loss

So. I see this is your first time dealing with the worst news. Not quite the same as bad news, is it? Bad news lets you keep standing, or maybe you sit down. I hope you were sitting when you heard this one. The worst news never gave you a chance to stay upright-it took the ground away from you as cruelly as a sudden sinkhole.

A sinking feeling? Sure. A daze? Probable. Sobbing with dry eyes?

Always.

The worst comes with the shoulds.

You should be upset, in public, in front of judging and bitter eyes.

You should accept the forced graciousness of those around you. They are being selfless for YOU.

You should act slowly, shuffling, hurt, proper, restrained. Keep your anger. Keep your confusion.

Keep

Your

Fear

Away

All I ever wanted to do was lie in front of that altar and cry, cry for hours, and demand a reason. All I wanted was SENSE, and all I got was whispers and black and a pervasive mist that Friday. The sun, at least, didn't dare mock me.

I hope you have rain. You can blame it all on the rain. Rain brings heavy hearts and wet faces, right?

"At least" comes next.

At least you weren't right there.

At least you got this time, this time.

At least it wasn't sudden.

Because I can PREPARE to have my own mortality shoved in my face? I can PREPARE to have to deal with everything that is swirling around me, but be deemed the strength here? And I can PREPARE to feel like the roof just fell on me, but look ok for the benefit of people who don't care in the way you do, in a way no one can imagine?

I can prepare?

If I had lived the past 200 years, I would not be prepared for this punch in the stomach.

You will want to cry, and that's fine. You will want to curl up and hope you disappear, and that's fine, too. Change out of your Church blacks. Don't ruin your nice shirt.

You will want to scream in rage and confusion and pain.

But don't. It is part of the human process to not be allowed to release the pain you are feeling. It is normal to hold yourself back, for the good of others. It is...considerate. It is a terrible thing, what these customs do to our souls.

Most of all, you will feel alone. No matter how many people pat your arm or offer you water, you will feel like the last person left on the planet. No one can understand. No one can walk you through this.

But, that feeling will fade. One friend will call. Another will leave a note. And another. The less of a stone you are, the more you will notice. And your facade will crack.

And, eventually, it will all rush out. The real tears and the held back screams and the weight, will come out. It might take a week. It might take a month, or a year. But it will happen.

And in the meantime, you aren't alone. That's what I remembered. The good times produce friends, but the worst times illuminate friendships. You might even gain clarity, as I did. I won't bother telling you to feel grateful. You aren't capable of it, not now.

Death...changes people. It changes things, as well. It makes you see that 80 years on the planet is nowhere near enough, and the more you waste, the less time you have to be ok with being a human, being alive. Isn't that what the journey is? Coming to grips with the gift and the curse that is being given a life as a human, and making sure your 80 years did some good. The best thing that death has done for me is remind me that every good thing I do, is not a means to the end, but an piece of something that will someday be illuminated as beautiful. Death is horrible, but it is also a celebration of something we are given for no real reason. Life, in fact, is not a race to the end. It is every day you see something incredible. It is every relationship that gave you acceptance and love. It is feeling the deepest emotions, and knowing that you are the only species that can FEEL, feel terrific pain and extreme anger and incredible, indescribable bliss. That is what death, to me, really was: a reminder that nothing is stupid or not worthwhile, if one day, someone else will want to cry by my photo, cry because I did something for them that no one else ever bothered to do.

You cry because you loved. And you don't stop loving because it's risky, but you gather as much as you can, in hopes that someone will someday cry for you.

That is life. That is death.

And this? This is a funeral. Remember your somber. Your straight face. Do not laugh at the priest. Do not fall asleep during the 4th eulogy, because you are so tired from crying instead of sleeping last night, and this man has a monotone and that church is stifling and you don't even know what you are doing, with your youth and your LIFE, at that place.

Aren't you a blessing? You brought life to the funeral. I have been told that, before. Youth is a gift you give to others.

Remember your training. Remember your civility, your maturity, and your subtlest body language. Remember that this is not about you, as it should be, but about making everyone else comfortable. Remember that this is a social rite, not a true expression of emotion.

And, remember to celebrate. Celebrate the life you have. Celebrate the life you want. And come back to reality with something new.

That is death.