Ruminations on Loss
I was right about the pain. Though not the searing, wrenching pain that I've experienced in the past, upon hearing the words "Uncle David passed away" a great deal pain swept through me and immediately tears sprung to my eyes. I'm not sure that I didn't expect it to happen (I did mention previously that I assumed I'd feel more when he actually did die) but somehow hearing the words and knowing that the inevitable had finally happened was still a surprise. Now that he's gone and the family is left with another missing piece, I can't help but wonder how I'd feel if I was in the shoes of other members of my family.
It was my Dad who called and told me that Uncle David had died. Obviously, and almost instaneously, I tried to imagine how I'd feel if it were one of my siblings who'd passed away. Even now the mere thought that Jen or Meagan was dying or dead makes me burn with pain. It feels like a part of myself was starting to disappear. It's a strange thought because for the most part we live completely seperate lives. I mean, we see each other often enough I suppose, though sometimes it is weeks between visits. It's far more likely these days for us to e-mail eachother, IM, or chat back and forth on eachother's facebook pages. But still the pain is horrible at the thought that something would, or could, take them from my life permanently. I can't truly know how either my Dad or Aunt Nancy are feeling with the death of their brother but I think that it's safe to say that what I feel with just imagining a similar loss would be compounded a hundred fold.
When he called it wasn't so much what Dad said as it was what he didn't say that told me how upset he was, so when he asked me to let Meagan and Jennifer know for him I was more than happy to make those calls. It wasn't until I'd called Jennifer and told her and had called Meagan and ended up having to leave a message for her on her voice mail that I started to consider how my cousins were feeling. That's when I tried to imagine myself in their place and to say that it hurt would be an understatment.
Imagining that it was father, or my mom, that had died was like having a knife stabbed into my heart and then someone twisting the blade. For all our varied complaints and whining over the years the one thing that all of us girls would agree on, I think, is that our parents are the one thing in our lives that we know we can always rely on. If we need help with something or advice, someone to go to dinner with or to bingo, a last minute babysitter, or just someone to talk to; our mom and dad have always been there for us, no matter what. To lose that.... I don't even want to think on it anymore because the imagining hurts too much. I have no idea how Danny, Erin, Avery and Stephen are dealing with it. I don't think I want to know.
Then, eventually, I started to think of my Grandma. To lose a child, even one that had lived a good life (David had to have been about 55years old) it's unbearable to even consider. So I think of Grandma and I look at my own children and it's like my heart is ripped from my chest and then viciously shredded. It's a kind of death all it's own. There are deaths that you expect to have to live through: your parents, your siblings and even your spouse and friends. Never your child. No parent should have to outlive their child.
So I spent most of the weekend thinking these thoughts, imagining how everyone would be feeling or more accurately how I would feel if I were them. Last night (Sunday) we had a family viewing of the body and while some of the spouses and children weren't there, all of the immediate blooded family was. It gave me a chance to view the family and consider how close my imaginings were.
Dad and Aunt Nancy are hard to read. You know that it's painful for them because you can see the shadows in their eyes but they maintain their composure well and are staying as strong as they can. For every one else. I think Jen, Meagan, Greg, Jill and I were all feeling about the same. We wanted a chance to see David one last time, to say good bye and we wanted to be there for the rest of family who might have need of us.
Avery, Stephen, Erin, Danny and Chey were all upset, hurt and at some points visibly fighting to stay in control of their emotions. More, they are all still in a state of, well not denial but, I geuss, disbelief. While they know that their father is in fact dead, their hearts haven't quite adjusted to reality of it. It is a state that I can certainly understand.
Grandma was, for most of the time, inconsolable. Another state for which I can completely understand. I don't know what else to say about Grandma beyond the mere fact that I hope I will never have to go through what she is going through right now. I truly don't and I wish that there was something that I could say or do that would ease her suffering but I know there isn't, it's something that she just has to live with. Though truth be told, after this, I don't think she'll last much longer either. Losing Grandpa 4 years ago was hard for her. Losing David is going to tear her apart.
One thing that will stick with me and I hope that it is something that Danny, Erin, Avery and Stephen will remember as well was a comment that Aunt Nancy made. She told them that she'd been watching Charlotte's Web on Saturday and how at the end of the movie Charlotte explains to Wilbur (for those of you who don't know or can't remember Charlotte is the spider and Wilbur is the pig) the significance of her egg sack, her Magnus opus. Charlotte told Wilbur that her sack was her life's work, her masterpiece. Nancy told the kids, in not so many words, that if there was anything in his life that rated such high praise it was his kids. They are his life's work, his greatest masterpieces. Every man or woman wants to leave something great of themselves behind and in his children, David did.
At the end of the evening we went our seperate ways, mummering promises to eachother to see one another on Wednesday (for the funeral) and going to our respective homes to deal with our grief, our pain, in our own ways. It will be interesting to see how everyone is coping come Wednesday and whether that pain has become more bearable or if it's still suffocating those who loved David most. One way or another, we've all got to live on.
It was my Dad who called and told me that Uncle David had died. Obviously, and almost instaneously, I tried to imagine how I'd feel if it were one of my siblings who'd passed away. Even now the mere thought that Jen or Meagan was dying or dead makes me burn with pain. It feels like a part of myself was starting to disappear. It's a strange thought because for the most part we live completely seperate lives. I mean, we see each other often enough I suppose, though sometimes it is weeks between visits. It's far more likely these days for us to e-mail eachother, IM, or chat back and forth on eachother's facebook pages. But still the pain is horrible at the thought that something would, or could, take them from my life permanently. I can't truly know how either my Dad or Aunt Nancy are feeling with the death of their brother but I think that it's safe to say that what I feel with just imagining a similar loss would be compounded a hundred fold.
When he called it wasn't so much what Dad said as it was what he didn't say that told me how upset he was, so when he asked me to let Meagan and Jennifer know for him I was more than happy to make those calls. It wasn't until I'd called Jennifer and told her and had called Meagan and ended up having to leave a message for her on her voice mail that I started to consider how my cousins were feeling. That's when I tried to imagine myself in their place and to say that it hurt would be an understatment.
Imagining that it was father, or my mom, that had died was like having a knife stabbed into my heart and then someone twisting the blade. For all our varied complaints and whining over the years the one thing that all of us girls would agree on, I think, is that our parents are the one thing in our lives that we know we can always rely on. If we need help with something or advice, someone to go to dinner with or to bingo, a last minute babysitter, or just someone to talk to; our mom and dad have always been there for us, no matter what. To lose that.... I don't even want to think on it anymore because the imagining hurts too much. I have no idea how Danny, Erin, Avery and Stephen are dealing with it. I don't think I want to know.
Then, eventually, I started to think of my Grandma. To lose a child, even one that had lived a good life (David had to have been about 55years old) it's unbearable to even consider. So I think of Grandma and I look at my own children and it's like my heart is ripped from my chest and then viciously shredded. It's a kind of death all it's own. There are deaths that you expect to have to live through: your parents, your siblings and even your spouse and friends. Never your child. No parent should have to outlive their child.
So I spent most of the weekend thinking these thoughts, imagining how everyone would be feeling or more accurately how I would feel if I were them. Last night (Sunday) we had a family viewing of the body and while some of the spouses and children weren't there, all of the immediate blooded family was. It gave me a chance to view the family and consider how close my imaginings were.
Dad and Aunt Nancy are hard to read. You know that it's painful for them because you can see the shadows in their eyes but they maintain their composure well and are staying as strong as they can. For every one else. I think Jen, Meagan, Greg, Jill and I were all feeling about the same. We wanted a chance to see David one last time, to say good bye and we wanted to be there for the rest of family who might have need of us.
Avery, Stephen, Erin, Danny and Chey were all upset, hurt and at some points visibly fighting to stay in control of their emotions. More, they are all still in a state of, well not denial but, I geuss, disbelief. While they know that their father is in fact dead, their hearts haven't quite adjusted to reality of it. It is a state that I can certainly understand.
Grandma was, for most of the time, inconsolable. Another state for which I can completely understand. I don't know what else to say about Grandma beyond the mere fact that I hope I will never have to go through what she is going through right now. I truly don't and I wish that there was something that I could say or do that would ease her suffering but I know there isn't, it's something that she just has to live with. Though truth be told, after this, I don't think she'll last much longer either. Losing Grandpa 4 years ago was hard for her. Losing David is going to tear her apart.
One thing that will stick with me and I hope that it is something that Danny, Erin, Avery and Stephen will remember as well was a comment that Aunt Nancy made. She told them that she'd been watching Charlotte's Web on Saturday and how at the end of the movie Charlotte explains to Wilbur (for those of you who don't know or can't remember Charlotte is the spider and Wilbur is the pig) the significance of her egg sack, her Magnus opus. Charlotte told Wilbur that her sack was her life's work, her masterpiece. Nancy told the kids, in not so many words, that if there was anything in his life that rated such high praise it was his kids. They are his life's work, his greatest masterpieces. Every man or woman wants to leave something great of themselves behind and in his children, David did.
At the end of the evening we went our seperate ways, mummering promises to eachother to see one another on Wednesday (for the funeral) and going to our respective homes to deal with our grief, our pain, in our own ways. It will be interesting to see how everyone is coping come Wednesday and whether that pain has become more bearable or if it's still suffocating those who loved David most. One way or another, we've all got to live on.
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