Death Revisited

I attended my sister's friend funeral last week.

I didn't plan to go but my mother felt like she should so I tagged along. We were told to meet at the cemetery. So we did. But my sister, who was there already, told us that we need to go to the church service first before we come here. My mom said that was fine and we headed toward the church. My sister told us it will be an open-casket service so we got mentally prepared.

You see, last time I saw a dead body was when I was 7.

My great grandmother laid out before me lying softly at peace like a brittle toy that had been used timelessly. Placing my fingers in the shape of a peace sign, I laid them down on her cheek. The coldness startled me. I didn't expect such stiffness.

That was my first exposure to death and that experience was definitely flash-backed on as I approached the church. Walking with my sister and mother was another of my sister's friends. I thought it peculiar that my sister's friend brought along her 4ish old boy. Reactively, I said to myself "Why would she do that?!". As we stood in the back of the church waiting to be seated, I saw the open-casket and secretly wondered how the child would react. He seemed to be clueless about what was going on.

We took our seats in the 100-max person church and held our ears open to hear the sermon and hear the stories from the family about Richard. The little boy sat in front of us with his mother. Flashbacks from other deaths came streaming in - remembering the sight of my grandmother- I wanted to retract my statement about bringing the young boy in the church. While he accompanied other children- surprising enough- to the church service, he began to learn through the transparent grief that loomed in the air. He began to cry when a close relative of the dead expressed himself with full upsetting conviction.

To this end, I wanted that boy there. I wanted him to touch the sadness that hung vibrantly in the air. I wanted him to know that this is the future of the existence of life. That sadness which touches the deepest crevasse of human existence is generated through the detachment of beings. This is what may be called decathexis.

The boy's mom's hands were surrounding in this time he was exposed to such reality. This is imperative. For what good does this experience due him if he is not safe and cared for in the proper way. His mother's love allows him to see death is moved through with patience and understanding; making him afraid more of death will will him to deny, ignore, or even shame it.

After the sermon was over, all the people lined up in an organized fashion and walked over to pay respect to the body and greeted the family. Looking at Richard's peaceful face, I thought of my grandmother whom I never knew and knew that they would be okay. How could they not, they looked so peaceful. In recollecting upon the additional losses in my family and friends circle, I get so awestruck about how a body with so much life- can look so peaceably dead. How a fully-abled body with a vibrant personality exists no more. Oh- the heartbreak. Oh, the loud pitch of despair rang in the voices of family and friends that passed. Richard's mom was taking hugs from everyone that was present and I thought never to scuttle outside without partaking in the act of giving love. So I did.

The little boy, of course, was eager to leave. Rightfully so. I am apt to wonder how he will be affected in his life. I hope that he realizes what realities in life but not to harp on them so much to not recognize that life is for living.