Wednesday, October 25, 2017

Surviving the Sadness

I do not know how many people die per day. I do not know how many funerals there are per day. I do not know if more people die from natural causes than at the hands of themselves or someone else or random acts. 

I do know that there was at least one funeral held today for a man I did not know. I may not have known him, but I know his wife, and I have met his children, and through them, I know he must have been someone worth knowing. 

His wife was not someone I know well. I see her once a year at our annual Pollyanna party and maybe one or two other times at a block party or some other such event. One time I accidentally sat in the same row as her at a Pink concert. Random, I know.

Since I learned of her husband's passing last week, I have not been able to stop thinking of them. Of the kids who will grow up without their dad and the wife who no longer has her partner by her side. How utterly unfair.

You would think that I would be familiar with grief by now. I know the agony of empty arms and unfulfilled dreams. I know the longing in my soul that sometimes makes something has simple as breathing seem like a chore. And yet, while I know how to grieve and miss and yearn for my daughter who died before she had a chance to be born, I can't wrap my head around this family's grief. The empty spot at the table. The quietness of his absence. 

Shortly after Allie died, Gary told me he wished he heard her cry just once. Not me, I said rather harshly. If I heard her voice, I would have wanted more. I am the type who always wants more. 

My uncle died when he was in his early forties. He also left behind two young children and a devastated wife. Maybe I am comparing my memory of what it was like to lose him and transposing it onto this family. Could be.

Death is so final. So abrupt. There is so much left unsaid and undone. 

Maybe people say that death makes you stronger. I would rather be weak and have my daughter here than be strong and live a life without her. I imagine my friend feels the same way about her husband.

I am at a loss to help this woman that I barely know. So I turned to my writing to see if it could ground me. In a way it has. Writing down how loss does not define us feels good. It feels like I am doing something instead of just being sad.

Somehow, in grief, we make it through. The hours turn to days and the days turn to weeks and then it's a month or two or three, and you have survived without that person. You feel guilty when you laugh or do not think about your loss every second of every day. Time does not heal, but time allows your heart to feel other emotions again.

Make it count. All of it. You never know when the chance you have could be the last chance you had. Do your best to survive the sadness. It's all you can do.


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