There is much to be said about death and loss.
This past week has left me contemplating each of these topics more than I’d like to admit.
I received a call from my mom a few days ago letting me know that one of my aunts passed away in her sleep. While I’m comforted by the fact that she went peacefully, she was so young—it just doesn’t feel like it was her time to die.
Nearly five years ago, my uncle, the one married to the aunt of which I speak, died after a tragic accident at his home. He was also young, and the circumstances just didn’t feel fair. But does death ever really feel fair?
A friend lost her sister and brother-in-law in a horrific and senseless crime last weekend, leaving their three young children without their mom and dad. Nothing about that is fair. Not for anyone involved. The children. The family left behind. How to we reconcile such loss?
I laid awake all last night thinking of my aunt. Of how lonely she must have been without her soulmate. Living life in a home that perhaps no longer felt so welcoming.
I think of her alone and it breaks my heart. I did some research to see if it was possible to die of a broken heart, and found that it is. And that this can be caused by depression and mental health issues, among other things. Occasionally dozing off in the night, I would wake up in a panic, thinking about my heart pounding out of my chest, wishing I could give my aunt one last hug to let her know how much I love her.
I believe in God. I believe in a life hereafter. But does having that knowledge really make loss any easier? Yes, I know I’ll see my aunt again. And my uncle. And my grandparents. But what of the mean time? For now, I miss them. The hurt doesn’t go away. And that empty hole rips wide open again when I think about my loved ones.
So how do we reconcile this in between? How do we find a way to keep going? To be happy again?
These are all things I think about. And honestly, I don’t know. I wish I did. But I’m starting to realize that this is natural. Feeling lost, being hurt, sometimes even feeling nothing at all. We all deal with grief differently, but the one thing we have in common is the choice to go on. To keep pushing forward. To keep going.
I’ve tried to work through some of these feelings, but can’t find a resolution. And I’m starting to realize that is okay. It’s okay to be sad. To mourn. To feel completely alone. I can’t just shove feelings aside and move past them—that causes infinitely more damage than good. So I’m going to feel it all. Every sticky, painful moment. Every tear, every gut-wrenching heartbeat.
Until I’m finally okay with not being okay.