The reality is you will grieve forever. You will not ‘get over’ the loss of a loved one; you will learn to live with it. You will heal and you will rebuild yourself around the loss you have suffered. You will be whole again, but you will never be the same. Nor should you be, nor would you want to. Elizabeth Kubler-Ross and John Kessler.
As long I have to reinvent myself after a piece of my heart got cut out, I’m thinking about doing something I always wanted to do – go Goth. Don’t waste your time asking yourself if I’ve lost my mind. That ship has sailed.
Now I’m saying this a little tongue in cheek. But think about it. I can wear black all the time now because I have a perfectly good excuse. I can read Edgar Allen Poe in the middle of the night and then listen to Joy Division, Sisters of Mercy, the Cult, Rasputina and Siouxsie and the Banshees on my IPOD all day.
I can contemplate death without working up an effort because it’s always there, right at the front and center of my brain. Not my death necessarily. I of course know that I will die someday, but harbor no plans to bring about my own premature demise. Life is much too precious and brief to throw away.
I’m already rocking silver hair and the dark circles around my eyes. All I have to do is slap on some black eyeliner and dark lipstick and I’m half way there. I have tons of black clothes already, because well…I’ve always loved black clothes. I even own a black corset.
The loss is Christopher, my grandson, keeps sneaking up at me at the most inopportune moment. Last night Mr. Husband and I were watching the Patriots vs Ravens football game. I suddenly burst into tears because the thought that Christopher is a Patriots fan flitted across my mind. I thought only men cried when watching football? My poor husband tried to comfort me and said “I’m sure where ever he is he’s watching the game.” The Patriots won. YAY
So if I’m going to be in mourning for the foreseeable future, I may as well have some fun with it. Sounds a bit kooky, I know. But I never claimed to be a “normal” person.
Reading a blog I follow started my day off with a good chuckle. That’s the best way to start a day, in my opinion. The post was I’ll Drive The Getaway, You Bring The Glue. It was a quickie with a good laugh at the end. What could be better on a roasting hot Texas morning?
But it got me thinking about death, dying and humor. Approaching the whole thing with humor is better that the alternatives, fear, trembling, screaming, hysteria, etc. I know I will cross that thresh hold someday. Better to laugh about it than fear it everyday until that fateful day. It’s a waste of brain function and adrenalin better used for other things.
Gallagher’s post reminded me of a joke I heard. Don’t remember where or who to attribute it to..so hear goes. “When I die, I want to go peacefully in my sleep….not screaming in terror like the passengers in my car!” I snort every time I think about this, and of course hope that if I go in my sleep that I’m in bed or on the sofa, not driving a carload of friends. I’m perfectly OK with going it alone. This is one journey that I don’t want to take anyone with me. Unless of course, they are the cause of my demise. Then they are welcome to join me.***evil grin***
But on a semi-serious note. It is a kindness to loved ones to express your final wishes. Especially when it comes down what to do with your remains. Don’t make grieving people decide. Never did get my grandmother to tell me what she wanted done, where she wanted to be buried or anything relevant to her impending death. As a result she’s in a container from the crematorium wrapped in a blue velvet bag on the top shelf of the amoire in my office. Mother gets a kick out of it. She says it looks just like the bag Crown Royal bourbon comes in. I agree with her and Grandmommie would be spinning in her grave, if she had one. But she doesn’t and it’s because she wouldn’t tell me what she wanted, dammit!
I am reasonably sure I want to be cremated with one condition. I must be dead first! Then I want to be in a pretty cloisonne urn with pink roses on it. The jar can reside on the mantel, shrine or other place of honor for a limited time or until someone gets tired of dusting it. Then send it to where ever it is that one sends funeral urns for the rest of eternity.