Death is for the living

We live through death. The people we loved are no longer with us physically and instead they are now the memories and thoughts we have about them. While their passing is permanent, the pain, sadness, and all the hairball of emotions we experience after their funeral, is for us to live through.

I’m now 4 years out from my mother’s passing. I miss her everyday. I talk to her when the leaves dance in the summer breeze; I think of her when I look at the sunset; and I talk about her often in therapy. All of these emotions and experiences I’ve been through after her death have been all for me. Not for someone else to experience, and certainly not for her.

I’m also 4 years out from my dog’s passing as well. (2020 was cruel.) I remember snuggling next to her often in bed and going for walks through parks just the two of us — taking care of each other in some way. While she isn’t here anymore, the experiences I shared with her live on in my mind. In a way, she’s still around and I get to on on walks with her whenever I want, but I always think of her now in past tense.

I’m almost 2 years out from my dad’s passing. He was a photographer, so I think of him whenever I take a photo on a film camera I recently purchased. Sometimes think that he’s taking the photos with me. I wish I had more time with him to go camping again, or do activities that made life feel slower. I wish he could read me another bedtime story. I remember holding his hand often.

In therapy, I’ve been learning to parent myself because my parent’s are no longer here. I am fully responsible for making sure when I’m having a bad day (and can’t pick up the phone to call them) I call on myself to go for a swim, eat my favorite food, or simply take three deep breaths. The latter I’ve been doing a lot more often than I want to admit. Breathing is hard for anyone going through grief.

I often say that I wouldn’t wish the death of my parents and dog even on my worst enemies. Grieving these people and animals that have had an impact on me has been like dragging sandpaper over my ignorant dream that no one ever dies. But I have to admit, this profoundly sad experience of grief has renewed me. I am no longer the same person I was before, but closer to the charismatic child I was in pre-school. Instead of wanting to work, I want to make friends. Instead of not talking about how I’m feeling, I want to share my grief with other people.

Death has been a selfish experience for me to live through: No one is able to define it for me, and no one gets to tell me how to feel about death. They say “everyone grieves in their own way,” and I’m on that team too. I understand I can never go back to the way things used to be, only forward, the new me, one breath at a time.