On Death and Dying
Death teaches us what is important.
What's the first thing you do when you hear some one you know has died? Once you recover from the shock of the news, I'm guessing you try to remember the last time you saw them. You search your mind for the funny thing they used to say or the way they acted around you. It means a lot that we don't immediately look for the sweater they bought you last Christmas or material stuff like that.
When I began this post, it was after having spent time with family mourning a recent loss. I took time to observe how we all helped each other grieve and move through our pain.
We did it by talking about the fun.
Sharing in the pain.
Crying together.
Hugging... lots of hugging.
How wonderfully lucky we were/are to have known him and have each other.
When death touches our lives, we come to understand that the material things we fill our lives up with are so insignificant. When someone we love leaves us forever from the physical realm, we feel a loss but have a moment of clarity in that the person we have lost is with you whenever you choose to think about them and cast your mind back to a moment they made you smile, laugh, cry, feel loved.
Once I had a dream of my mom's father, Grandpop Jansen, roller skating. Surrounded by bright sunshine, blue skies, he wore yellow swim trunks, and rolled confidently down the Atlantic City boardwalk. The dream was so real, I could hear the seagulls cry and the waves crash and music playing off in the distance.
The dream I had about my grandfather roller skating down the Atlantic City boardwalk is as real as any memory based in actual moments I spent with him. I never in my life saw him roller skate. I may have seen him wear yellow swim trunks once or twice and I probably saw him without his shirt on as many times as we enjoyed the swimming pool in the backyard of his house when we visited as kids.
The fact that I had never had any personal experience that manifested in the dream is not important. I know that on some level, I tapped into the feelings I had around him. The joy I felt in his presence helped create the dream.
Death teaches us what is important. Joy is important. Fun is important. Even sharing painful moments is important. Those things are what last.
What's the first thing you do when you hear some one you know has died? Once you recover from the shock of the news, I'm guessing you try to remember the last time you saw them. You search your mind for the funny thing they used to say or the way they acted around you. It means a lot that we don't immediately look for the sweater they bought you last Christmas or material stuff like that.
When I began this post, it was after having spent time with family mourning a recent loss. I took time to observe how we all helped each other grieve and move through our pain.
We did it by talking about the fun.
Sharing in the pain.
Crying together.
Hugging... lots of hugging.
How wonderfully lucky we were/are to have known him and have each other.
When death touches our lives, we come to understand that the material things we fill our lives up with are so insignificant. When someone we love leaves us forever from the physical realm, we feel a loss but have a moment of clarity in that the person we have lost is with you whenever you choose to think about them and cast your mind back to a moment they made you smile, laugh, cry, feel loved.
Once I had a dream of my mom's father, Grandpop Jansen, roller skating. Surrounded by bright sunshine, blue skies, he wore yellow swim trunks, and rolled confidently down the Atlantic City boardwalk. The dream was so real, I could hear the seagulls cry and the waves crash and music playing off in the distance.
The dream I had about my grandfather roller skating down the Atlantic City boardwalk is as real as any memory based in actual moments I spent with him. I never in my life saw him roller skate. I may have seen him wear yellow swim trunks once or twice and I probably saw him without his shirt on as many times as we enjoyed the swimming pool in the backyard of his house when we visited as kids.
The fact that I had never had any personal experience that manifested in the dream is not important. I know that on some level, I tapped into the feelings I had around him. The joy I felt in his presence helped create the dream.
Death teaches us what is important. Joy is important. Fun is important. Even sharing painful moments is important. Those things are what last.
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