Friday, December 23, 2011

Death Becomes Me

A few days ago, after looking for him and filing a missing persons report, we learned that my grandpa had died.  At 78 years old my grandfather died alone in a hotel room (he was found by a hotel manager in room 410), surrounded by the very few things in life that comforted him, music, cigarettes and alcohol. I say that not as a judgement but because I am not comforted by the fact that he went out as some would put it "on his own terms." I wanted him to know that we loved him and missed him and he never got to know that. He never got to feel the urgency of his loved ones while he was missing. He never got to know that his only great grand child was praying for him to come home safely.
In the midst of the sadness and grief I observe others and their process and what they have to do to get them through the day. Everyone's process is different.  Some may party to get them through the night. Some my sleep to get them through the day. But no one knows when you're all alone, the thoughts, emotions and tears that may come.  It is sure nuff a process that I am trying my damnedest not to judge as I see, hear and watch others go through it.Not judging is a huge lesson for me (albeit it is a struggle). I am usually a solitary person, but as I go through it all, I don't want to be alone. It's too similar to how my grandfather died. Actually all of my grandparents (and father) died alone. The one who is still alive is also alone. The point of life is to love and be with others. I struggle with it all. Maybe he did too. Maybe that's why he disappeared for days. But even the thought of this is no solace.

At this point I don't want to be strong. I don't want to be on auto pilot. I want just melt into this tub and drown in my tears of sorrow until I can cry no more. That night, I couldn't say the words. I couldn't say that he was dead. The words wouldn't my escape my lips. My head was not connecting with reality. I wanted it not to be true. We were supposed to help find him. He was supposed to come home alive. He was supposed to be our Christmas miracle. Returned to us safe and sound.

I am mired in death.

2 comments:

  1. If it sounds hollow, it's not meant to be, but, I am sorry for your loss. You are surrounded by two communities of people who I'm sure would do anything for you if you asked, me included, you have my number. You are not alone. Deepest Shanti, Carrie

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  2. Thank you Carrie I truly appreciate your support and friendship. Your words are not hollow.

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