Recently, a dear friend of mine passed away. It was so sudden -- jarring. Friday morning, he posted the he was going to be at the hospital having a CT done on his back to see if he had a degenerated disc. Sunday, his wife posted that he was being placed in a medically induced hypothermia and they hoped to know more soon. Somehow, he had spinal meningitis. Monday, they took him out of hypothermia, but he was still in a coma. Wednesday he was pronounced brain dead and Thursday, they took him off of the machines. He passed that day.
I went to work Wednesday night, I was told that the family said that anyone that wanted to come by was welcome to do so before they took him off support. In my heart, I wanted to go. To see him and to say good bye. To tell him that he was a good man, a great friend, a wonderful father to his little girl. I wanted to tell him that he would be missed. But I couldn't, but not because of a lack of desire.
When I was younger, my grandmother had hip replacement surgery and ended up with a staph infection inside where the new ball met the socket. She was on antibiotics for the rest of her life. I would frequently go to the hospital to visit her. I hated seeing her like that. One day, my father went in to see her and I was a couple steps behind. She was crying. She told my father that she was tired of dieing every day just to wake up in the morning. It stirred something inside me. She didn't want to keep up like that and wanted it all to be over. My father stopped me from coming in and we left. After that, I couldn't go to her. It was like the person I wanted to see was already dead; in her place was some half-self.
At her funeral, I couldn't be somber I understood that was expected. But I just couldn't do it. She had finally passed and she was no longer in pain, wishing to die. She was free of it all. I understand, that God only gives us what we can handle. But we are mortal. Or frames are fragile. And there comes a point when we as the living/feeling part can no longer handle it. I wanted to celebrate, not sullenly hold on to the memory. I felt like she would have wanted it that way. That she would have been frustrated with how we were choosing to remember her.
To this end, I wore a bright colored shirt, shorts and sandals . It was the first time that I offended someone for being me. They were upset that I was not mourning as they mourned. That I was not grieving. They felt that I was childish and immature. But it was at the same time that I realized that there are many ways to grieve. Probably as many ways as there are people. Just because I was celebrating, did not mean that I was not hurting. Bur I felt there was a time to grieve and there was a time to celebrate. And now, in the church, was a time to celebrate. To not look back with regret, but to look back and see a woman who truly lived.
My time to grieve came a few years later. Due to letting my grandfather, who had lost his mind, have the ashes -- they ended up lost as well. But finally came the time for her to be u interred. I wept like I did the day my father left my life. He cried and cried and could not stop. I missed her so terribly and I knew that she would never be early again. That she was gone. It is still raw thinking about it.
My friend's funeral is tomorrow. I have learned that funerals are for the living. Too often, though, they forget what the person's life was like while they were alive. Each of us have something to celebrate I won't be at my friend's funeral. And for those that will be, I pray that your grief not last long and that your heart remain heavy only for a moment. While he passed away young, with a new wife and child left behind, he had a good life. And for those that live, remember to live life so that when you pass you will be celebrated. Don't hold on to the woulda's, shoulda's and coulda's. They will take up more time than you need to give Them. Live your life so that others can say, "This man/woman truly lived." And remember that everyone grieve's differently. Just because they do not do the same as you, that they loved the person less.
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