My Relationship with Death

I only write when I have something to say and that is almost all the time… okay maybe all the time. I call my friend girls ever so often and during the catching up phase of the conversation it is always brought to light that my life is that of a storybook, not a fairly tale of course.  This particular blog post is no exception. I have other blogs and writings all over the Internet, but this one is special because it is freestyle; no copies, very little editing, just me.

Ironically, my blog is titled Talk Life and with this only being my third post I find that talking about life had to include talking about death. I need to share with all that know me what death means to me and how I developed such an easygoing relationship with it.

I attended my uncle, Ralph’s funeral today and to say the least as soon as I stepped into the funeral home my heart was laden with the sorrow. Not that of my own, but that of all the others. My status line on Facebook clearly read, “I am going to put earplugs in my ears when I read the obituary at my uncle’s funeral on Saturday. Some understood exactly what I meant and others did not. For those that did not I made a feeble attempt to explain. How can we explain how we deal with death when we have dealt with it upfront and personal since the age of 16 when another uncle overdosed on heroin leaving all the youngsters confused, depressed and unknowing. I sat and watched my young cousins in the front row at the funeral home crying uncontrollable and all I could do was grip their hands tightly and pray that God would provide the same hand holding for them as He did for me when I was so very young.

I jumped at the chance to read my uncle’s obituary at the beckoning of my aunt and cousins, even knowing that I am very, very anxious during public speaking.  “Face your fears and conquer them.” I had to do it; he had tried to tell me while he was losing all fight for living; while he was in the hospital heavily sedated, but able to grip my hand when I told him, “Uncle I know that you have been ready for a while now; don’t give in to the selfishness of the world. If you need to let go then do so.”  He gripped my hand tightly, but that was all he was able to do. He needed to know that it was okay. My aunt never allowed herself to go there, none of the other family did either, but I was the only one that he wanted to speak to about dying and what he truly wanted. He knew my relationship with death and my comfort with it. Dying folk know…

I never got the chance to speak with him, still I knew that he would be more than proud to have me read his obituary. I had a troubled sleepless night the night before; I had visitors from the ”spirit world” and they kept me up all night long. I began remembering the times when I had to deal with death face-to-face; not that of my own, but that of watching and caring for family members and friends that I saw first hand dying. You know, it is not so bad. I am not desensitized to death, but I will say that I have a clear understanding with it. I know I will die someday and all of those that are living unconsciously unconscious, guess what… You too are going to die. It is the only guarantee in life.

I have a very comfortable relationship with death. I know to most this will sound weird, but we can’t get too comfortable in this life because it is going to end. At one point, during the reading I did succumb to the sorrow. I looked out into the crowd of the many people and I thought, “Wow, I am really reading the obituary at my uncle’s funeral.” I became overwhelmed just for a couple of seconds. The funeral director tenderly told me to take my time; even though he was rushing us out of the funeral home perhaps for another. I gathered myself and continued on eloquently… confidently and satisfactorily. It was not hard; it was just so very sad… looking into the faces of the young ones, the tormented ones and my family feeling inside almost elated that my uncle was never going to suffer again. I never shed a tear; I never felt sorrow or sadness only joy that he was not in pain any longer.

I made it through with God holding my hand. This was not the first time I had to speak at a funeral. Funny though, I passed out at the very sight of my classmates in my speech class many years earlier; and at one point I didn’t even want to attend funerals. I would quickly volunteer to stayed behind to cook and make sure the early arrivals had hot food to eat. Now, here I was facing all my relatives with tear soaked red eyes trying my best to bring comfort; to share in my comfort with death… introduce them to my relationship with death. I endured the demise of many folk and with each one I know that my time will come. With each one I know that attachments in this realm make living that much harder.

Death, demise, dying… read it, know it, get close to it. I will never be able to fully explain what it is all about. One thing I do know it is not selfish; it is not convenient nor is it negotiable. I somberly watched a boyfriend die after being shot in the head point-blank range; an aunt who died in my childhood home from cancer eating away at her and nurturing a dying grandmother until the day she cried out, “I don’t want to go to the hospital!” I know what it feels like to lose the ones we love. I understand there is absolutely nothing I can or will do about it. It is not a punishment, but an end to everything good and bad and we all have to go that way!

My relationship with death is one of truth and solitude anchored in my beliefs of what my heart tells me and that is, “Don’t fear my child for all will face me and until then do your best to live as righteous as you possibly can.” My heart will never be laden with the heaviness of death because I know it just is. Peace, love and blessings to all!