That five letter word no one wants to talk about...DEATH
Taboo
I’ve been thinking about writing on this topic for quite some time but never really know where to begin or if anyone even really wants to hear it. It is a conversation that so few people really embrace having because it is so uncomfortable. No one really feels like a master of it and no one is ever really prepared to lose someone they love. There are “better” circumstances than others, if you can even really say that, but even when you know the person you lost is no longer in pain, it is still incredibly hard to be without someone you have held so dear for so long. When I started brainstorming what to write next for my blog, a few things happened that really pointed me in the direction of getting this down on paper — well, really on screen, but you get what I mean.
The first thing that came up was a conversation with an athlete. Shocking huh? This particular athlete had just visited her grandparents and was struck by their health. While on her visit and especially after she left, she was filled with fear about them not being around for much longer, a fear so crippling that it was consuming her every thought. The second was a podcast done by one of my dear friends and her amazing mama, Megan and Peggy Curry. They tackled the same topic and in true Curry fashion, it was so insightful and it all resonated with me so much for so many different reasons. But after listening to the podcast, reflecting on the conversation and then really processing what I have learned about loss in my own life, I knew what I had to write about.
Dealing with Death
Death is something I am actually incredibly comfortable talking about, probably because I have experienced a lot of it in my not so long lifetime. When I was six, my paternal grandfather passed away from lung cancer and alcoholism. When I was 11, my 16 year-old neighbor died in a car crash. When I was 13, my best friend’s mom passed away from cancer. When I was 16, one of my friends died in a car crash in December and for those of you who have read my blog before, Devin passed away from MRSA that late April, 4 ½ months apart from one another. When I was 19, my friend drowned while we were at University of Oregon one summer. When I was 20, my brother’s really close friend died in an accident. These that I list are the ones that strike chords with me, but most certainly are not all that have happened. And since then, I have lost my paternal grandmother, other family members and a few more friends. The interesting part about the loss I have endured is that — with the exception of my two grandparents — most have been people under the age of 30. When a life is taken away so soon, it is all a little different and can be really tough to grasp. But it also gives you a very different perspective on life. It's something my brother and I share, because not only have we gone through many of these young losses together but we've experienced so many more of them than either of my parents, who are 30 years older, ever did.
I remember having a conversation with my mom when my friend from Oregon passed away. She made a comment to me that I will never forget. She said, “You and your brother have endured more death in your short lives, than your dad and I have in ours. I am so sorry.” It sits with me to this day and I remember where I was when I had that conversation. She was right. And it was solidified when I texted my brother before sitting down to write this, to make sure I got my age correct for when our neighbor passed away. My brother has a tattoo for him on his back, so I knew he had the exact date. His response to me was, “2000. I had to look. We’ve lost a lot of people. Unfortunately, it’s hard to remember when they have all left.” I responded back to him, “That is exactly what I’m going to write about.”
Understanding the differences
Each loss brings something different, specifically when it comes to emotions. I can remember where I was for all of the ones I listed above. I can remember where I was sitting, who I was with, the immediate feeling I had after hearing and for some, what I was wearing, eating, watching or the smells around me. My friend who passed away in Oregon was maybe one of the hardest experiences, and not because of my emotions, but because of the emotions of the people around me. By the time he passed, I had already lost five people close to me. I had already figured out how I coped with death and how I needed to move through it. But those around me had not and for most of them, it was their first experience.
When I was 13, my best friend wanted me to see her mother after she passed. I wanted to support my friend and I didn’t really think anything of it. After all, you see that kind of stuff on T.V., how much different could it really be? My mom asked if I wanted her to go with me and I said no, I thought I could handle it just fine. For those of you who really know me, I am sure you can imagine a 13 year-old me telling my mom I didn’t need her in this very pivotal and potentially traumatic life experience. I remember my mom telling me that it wasn’t her — my friend’s mother — anymore. That she wasn’t in there anymore and it was just her body. That didn’t make sense to me until I walked in the room. I will never forget the immense feeling of cold that rushed over me as I looked at her. It wasn’t fear or terror. I didn’t burst into tears or run out of the room. But in that moment, what my mom said made all the sense in the world and I swore I would never have that be the last image of someone I loved.
When my friend in Oregon drowned, it was my roommate’s first experience with death and her reaction to it was much different than mine. She wanted to be surrounded by people with a lot of white noise; I liked to be alone with tons of quiet. She wanted to be there for every updated minute; I wanted to give the people even closer to him space. Neither was wrong, neither was bad — they were just different. And this passing was very intense, as we were really a part of the entire event.
We were all floating on the river and it was tradition for the football guys to jump off the bridge into the water. Unfortunately, our buddy got sucked into an undertow and tried to fight his way out. My roommate and I had gone in a little sooner than everyone else and were waiting a little ways down the river. When we saw an innertube float past us with no one in it, we knew something was wrong. Soon after, a boat came and told us someone had drowned and the ambulance had just taken them to the hospital. They took us back to the loading dock and we packed everyone's tubes in my car. One of our friends was stranded on the other side of the river bank, so we picked them up and headed to the hospital. All of us — there were at least 20, maybe more — flooded the waiting room. They had to transfer him and we all followed. It was hectic, to say the least, and after hours of waiting with little updates, we finally got the news — he had passed. My friend was gone.
We were given the option to see him and say our goodbyes. After my experience at 13, I was adamant about not wanting to. When you drown, they pump your stomach, and I knew what that meant — his belly would be distended, his skin would be purple or almost grey in color, and I did not want that to be the last image I had of him. But my roommate really wanted to say goodbye one last time and I didn't want her to have to do that alone. So, as we walked into the room, the same intense cold rushed back over me. I stood there and looked at him, so empty and no longer full of the crazy passion for life our friend once had. He wasn't there anymore but my roommate got to say goodbye, handling her loss and grief in the way she needed to. And I was there for her when she did.
Death is weird and what I have learned from so much of it, is it is NEVER the same. I had a conversation with my aunt in the very beginning of me starting my blog about this very subject. We were talking about Devin and how his death affected me so deeply and how the death of even my own grandmother wasn't as emotional for me. First, that is hard to admit. Everyone believes that they are supposed to feel a very specific way when it comes to losing someone in your life, especially within your family. But we all know, or at least you should if you have been reading my blogs, haha, that each relationship we have is different. We are impacted by those in our life in varying ways, so it makes sense that death is the same way. That isn’t something to be ashamed of. You shouldn’t have to pretend to feel a certain way. Of course you are always sad, but not all will strike you to get a tattoo of that person, so they live on within you for the rest of your life. Not all bring up these emotions year after year that are hard to harness, and that is okay. There is no “supposed to” with death, or at least there shouldn’t be.
Fear
Let’s talk about fear. Fear was brought up in the podcast with Megan and Peggy and was also the focus of the athlete I was speaking to. Megan feared death because of the loss of her grandmother when she was really young. Something I think we can all relate to. The athlete was clearly fearful of losing her grandparents, and that is something I can completely sympathize with. I have an unbelievably strong bond with my maternal grandparents. They were and are such a huge part of my life, every step of the way. They have been involved with every major moment that I can think of for my brother and me. The thought of losing either one of them is devastating to me. BUT, I refuse to let that fear stand in the way of my time with them. Choosing to be fearful or sad takes away from the precious moments I do get to share with them. There is a great quote that I shared with my athlete during this exact conversation, “Worrying does not empty tomorrow of its troubles, it empties today of its strength.” With all the death I have dealt with in my life, this is definitely a quote that sits with me day in and day out. You cannot control when life will be taken from you, whether it be yours or someone you love. And as scary as that may seem, worrying about it does nothing for you other than take away moments you could be having with those you love, or with yourself.
I’m no expert on this subject. I only know what I have experienced. But what I do know is that we have to open up more conversations about it. I have said it before and I will keep saying it. It’s not easy, it’s uncomfortable, but that is where we grow. That is where we get rid of the fear that is taking over us. Start talking, keep listening and just know that every experience will be different for you, just like it has been for me. From Papa Greg, to Geoff, Shannon, Casie, Devin, Todd, Kelcie and Tutu, each one has given me so much but in such varying ways.
And here is the last thing I will leave you with — it never really gets easier. You just get more accustomed to how you deal with it and what you need in order to process the grief. Give yourself grace. Allow yourself to feel all of the emotions that come with each person you lose in your life. And lean on the people around you that are trying to support you through it. It may not be who you thought it would be. It usually never is. But allow yourself to let others in during times of weakness, to give you strength.
