Loss

There isn't an easy answer to approaching death. For now, I would like October removed from the Julian calendar. This had to be the worst month I have ever experienced. How do we, the living, deal with the disappearance of those we love? Until it touches us personally, most of us don't really spend a lot of energy or time dealing with that question. Why should we? It isn't easy to fit that kind of depressing reflection into our busy lives. After all, after we're gone, who cares? Certainly not the departed. And let's face it, our culture isn't set up for long periods of grieving and contemplation. There's money to be made / preserved and appointments to be kept. It's very uncomfortable for those outside of the immediate circle of death to know what to say. The simple utterances are often of little import, save the fact that the utterer cares enough to express them.

As we grow older, the incidences of loss increase exponentially. My father, at his passing, no longer had close friends and few acquaintances still living. He had only his memories. These memories I have tried to memorize so that they become the lore passed down from generation to generation. Sadly, our culture also does not encourage such reminiscence. The written word certainly survives but with so much of it available, it is easily dismissed as non-important to our experience. I fear that whatever value there was in any given life is discarded with the body after death. It doesn't hold interest for any but the few infused with the departed's blood.

In the last few years, I have lost my Mother, my only sister, my best friend Mark C. Anderson, my beloved companion Tahoe, my father and many others whose lives touched those around me, both friend and family. If this is the nature of loss at 56 years old, I'm not sure I want to survive to my father's age of 86.

In loss of a friend, a loved one, a darkness descends that envelopes the soul. It is indeed a part of our life experience but it is unnaturally cruel. It reminds us of the fragility of life. It robs us of the resolute assurance that life is good. It interrupts the flow of consciousness that we select to survive in. It makes all of our temporal goals and achievements meaningless. It pierces our heart. It leaves us defenseless.

Tomorrow, there will be a morning, a noon and an afternoon that need to be filled. It will undoubtedly require enough attention to postpone or cure the emptiness inside. There will be quiet moments under the starlight, the new moon. They will nudge me to remember. My heart will yearn. I will wait for the new day, knowing that those that survive are important, needful. I will live on.