Rest In Peace...
...my dear Aunt Carolyn.
Over the last couple of years I've sort of redefined what I think and believe about death. I knew one thing, of course, that it comes for us all, but I've had to rethink a lot of other items. It's one of those, 'the more I know, the less I understand' sort of things.
But to my wonderful extended family:
1). You will never tire of the stories of craziness, hard work, love, food, love, more food, more craziness, and more hard work. Aunt Carolyn was a Fuzzy matriarch after all. Even writing this blog I am reminded of a story about Dad.
We were driving to a job in California when the news informed us of a particularly gruesome murder. A man had been dismembered and stuffed in garbage cans. I sat there with my mouth agape as the details of the crime reached my ears.
"Poor bastard," Dad said. Then he did the sign of the cross. "May he rest in pieces."
Those are the crazy things that will pop into your head a lot more often than you will think...
2). Which reminds of the other other thing I know about death. It becomes part of your life. Thinking about Aunt Carolyn's wonderful life will certainly be an every day event, but its more than that...it's every twelve minutes or so...and it doesn't stop there. Aunt Carolyn will stay alive in your dreams, in the expressions on the faces of your children, and in your own voices and actions. She will stay alive as long as your heart is beating.
3). And there will be a real presence in your life. A tangible, pit in your stomach. A realization that the love you felt for Aunt Carolyn, all through your life, can not be diminished. In fact, in many ways it will grow...leaving...
4) ...no separation. Love kicks death's ass. Of this I am sure. You will not feel separated from Aunt Carolyn unless you allow yourself to do that. Call it God, call it a cosmic presence, call it whatever you want to call it, but if you look in your heart, there won't be a gap there if you simply leave the space in your heart alone. Aunt Carolyn didn't leave. She's right there...in the center of your chest...in the beating of your own heart.
5). But it will hurt like nothing ever hurt before. And the fog will envelope you on some days, and you'll cry hard, and look for all sorts of ways to comfort yourself. Let the grief consume you. Let it all out. Think mounds of food, grey goose, all sorts of meaningless, self-destructive tasks...and then come back around to the thing that brings you to this mess of things in the first place.
6). Come back to the love. May Aunt Carolyn's strength give you strength. May her hope bring you hope. May her love grant you love. (That's borrowed from Springsteen) but man if you say it slow, you will find you will sustain.
7). Because Aunt Carolyn is a wonderful whirlwind of love, strength, hope and faith that will not diminish. She is a force and a spirit to be recognized all through your days.
Can't you just see Dad and Aunt Carolyn and Jeff dressed all in white, standing on a cloud, playing the harp?
Me neither. They'd get tossed for making everyone around them laugh.
But in my weakest moments I can certainly feel them alive.
Alive and at peace.
Satisfied that they emptied the tank at every opportunity and thrilled that the love they developed will live on.
and on.
and on.
and on.
...and on.
RIP
Over the last couple of years I've sort of redefined what I think and believe about death. I knew one thing, of course, that it comes for us all, but I've had to rethink a lot of other items. It's one of those, 'the more I know, the less I understand' sort of things.
But to my wonderful extended family:
1). You will never tire of the stories of craziness, hard work, love, food, love, more food, more craziness, and more hard work. Aunt Carolyn was a Fuzzy matriarch after all. Even writing this blog I am reminded of a story about Dad.
We were driving to a job in California when the news informed us of a particularly gruesome murder. A man had been dismembered and stuffed in garbage cans. I sat there with my mouth agape as the details of the crime reached my ears.
"Poor bastard," Dad said. Then he did the sign of the cross. "May he rest in pieces."
Those are the crazy things that will pop into your head a lot more often than you will think...
2). Which reminds of the other other thing I know about death. It becomes part of your life. Thinking about Aunt Carolyn's wonderful life will certainly be an every day event, but its more than that...it's every twelve minutes or so...and it doesn't stop there. Aunt Carolyn will stay alive in your dreams, in the expressions on the faces of your children, and in your own voices and actions. She will stay alive as long as your heart is beating.
3). And there will be a real presence in your life. A tangible, pit in your stomach. A realization that the love you felt for Aunt Carolyn, all through your life, can not be diminished. In fact, in many ways it will grow...leaving...
4) ...no separation. Love kicks death's ass. Of this I am sure. You will not feel separated from Aunt Carolyn unless you allow yourself to do that. Call it God, call it a cosmic presence, call it whatever you want to call it, but if you look in your heart, there won't be a gap there if you simply leave the space in your heart alone. Aunt Carolyn didn't leave. She's right there...in the center of your chest...in the beating of your own heart.
5). But it will hurt like nothing ever hurt before. And the fog will envelope you on some days, and you'll cry hard, and look for all sorts of ways to comfort yourself. Let the grief consume you. Let it all out. Think mounds of food, grey goose, all sorts of meaningless, self-destructive tasks...and then come back around to the thing that brings you to this mess of things in the first place.
6). Come back to the love. May Aunt Carolyn's strength give you strength. May her hope bring you hope. May her love grant you love. (That's borrowed from Springsteen) but man if you say it slow, you will find you will sustain.
7). Because Aunt Carolyn is a wonderful whirlwind of love, strength, hope and faith that will not diminish. She is a force and a spirit to be recognized all through your days.
Can't you just see Dad and Aunt Carolyn and Jeff dressed all in white, standing on a cloud, playing the harp?
Me neither. They'd get tossed for making everyone around them laugh.
But in my weakest moments I can certainly feel them alive.
Alive and at peace.
Satisfied that they emptied the tank at every opportunity and thrilled that the love they developed will live on.
and on.
and on.
and on.
...and on.
RIP
Comments