Skip to main content

On Death

It simultaneously reminds me of the biggest and smallest things. With the deaths I have experienced, I find that I can suddenly contemplate the metal making up a paper clip. But I also gulp as I watch the starry universe expand in my vision at night. I see generations of families spilling onto pages. I see the future and the past, the afterlife and the premortal.
Perhaps it is not the biggest and smallest things, perhaps death takes hold on my comprehension of opposites. It awakens my sense to the other side of things. Off and on, darkness and light, fear and faith.

It happens early. No one told me how young I would be when it started to creep into my life. And I don't think I'm the exception. The first person I remember dying and it really meaning something to me was a girl named Maura at my high school (I realize this is somewhat incriminating since my Grandad died when I was in 6th grade). I remember the day we found out at school, I was devestated. I was embarassed by my emotion because we weren't even friends. Our teachers said that anyone that felt like they needed to talk to a counselor could be excused from class. And I believe I left. I felt guilty since she wasn't really my friend (and a reflection on high school--- part of my embarrassment was the fear that someone would think I was trying to be cool, because she was far more popular than myself). But I went and talked to a counselor. And oddly I can't remember if that part of the memory is real or made up.

I sang at her funeral, along with 3 other girls from choir. I was chosen because I am a decent alto. Not because I knew her. And I was devestated again. It was the first time I saw a lifeless body and it was frightening, yet curious (one thing about death people do tell you is that you can tell that a person has left their body when they are dead, and, in case no one has told you this, it's true. Death makes me logically believe in God each time, because seeing a body without a spirit makes me sure that the spirit exists elsewhere).

I still think about her. Maybe that's weird. I wonder what she is doing and if she is happy. I think she is. I think about all the pieces of life she didn't get to live and it helps me re-evaluate at times.

It happens often. Maura was the first, but I feel like all of a sudden I know a lot of people that have died. I didn't know I could lose a mother at 25 (my mother in law, for those of you that don't know). My friends are starting to die. A friend of my brother's, a kid from middle school, a friend of a friend's. And all of these kids were our age. In their mid-20s.

Guilt. My Gramps passed away my sophomore year of college, in 2006. He was far too young to die and I fully expected my grandparents to all still be around for my child bearing years (I'm re-reading The Red Tent, so forgive the terminology, I can't think of another way to say it). I am still annoyed at the twists of fate that lead my Gramps to leave us. And I still see the way his death shocked my life into a completely different path. One that is far better than the one I was choosing at the time.
How does that happen? How does something so hard end up pushing you towards something so good? Was it my Gramps working some sort of angelic magic from the other side? Maybe. But it's different than that. I don't think it was Gramps being my guardian angel, I think it's more that our Eternal Father was busy weaving the pieces of my life at the time and he recognized, no, created this opportunity for me within the heartache.
I still feel guilty that I don't remember the last time I saw him. I remember the last time I didn't. I was traveling to his house with my boyfriend of the time and he needed to stop. I didn't want to stop, but he really wanted to so we did. And we missed Gramps. By the time we got to the house he had just left to go to City Council I think. I didn't think much of it at the moment but it has haunted me for a long time since.

Comments

  1. Holly, good post. I feel similarly with my experiences, from not remembering my Mom with the detail that I wish to finding faith in an afterlife as a motivator for my actions here on earth.

    Not that you asked for this tidbit, but I'll take advantage of your good-nature: One of my favorite things to think about is a comment my Mom made to my sister right before my Mom died. She told my sister that it's ok that she wouldn't be around to see her grandkids because she would be with them on the other side and make sure to pick out good ones for us. I don't know how it all works up there, and I'm sure my Mom doesn't have much pull when it comes to spirit selection, but I smile when I look at my daughter and think of my Mom's comment and the possibility that the two of them could have bonded and spent time together before she came to be with us. Death is a curious animal, but, like you, I believe that our Father helps us to cope and find our own sort of happiness through the ordeal.

    Sorry about the hijack, but I really enjoyed your post. Hope you guys are doing well.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. John, I loved this comment. You especially are welcome to hijack any post of mine. so to speak.

      Delete
  2. you have such a gift for writing. i can relate to so much of what you said. i feel guilty for not remember exactly what my grandma pulled me into the bedroom to tell me before she went home, knowing that she only had days or weeks left on this earth. i remember her calling each of us grand-kids in...and i remember she wanted to leave some advice with us. i was 12, almost 13 so you would think those words would be burned into my memory, but they are not.

    i too was affected by the death of a classmate in high school, and like you we weren't really friends. we knew each other, we rode the same bus...but friends? not really. I felt the same way you did...not sure why i was so upset by it and wondering how many people would think i was just trying to be cool. i even remember some of his friends being upset that so many kids who never gave him the time of day were talking to counselors and acting like they were close personal friends.

    you just have such a way of expressing emotions that i have felt that i wanted to acknowledge that...thanks!

    ReplyDelete
  3. I still feel guilty because I remember that a few weeks or a month or so before Gramps had surgery, he drove out to a conference with someone from work in Spanish Fork. Spanish Fork. It's like right here. And we didn't even makes plans to meet up, even for lunch or breakfast.

    I like what John said. That is a beautiful thought, that Gramps knew Mo before she came here.

    I bet Peggy has some real great spirits just waiting to come be you and Eric's babies.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Wow Holly. This made me tear up...you explained it all so well. Such a beautiful post on a topic that so many fear.

    More than ever, I am so grateful that you Glem's have been a part of my life. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow!

    ReplyDelete
  5. I felt incredibly sad when Maura died, and wasn't sure why. We weren't really close, but her parents would drive us to dance class together. We'd hang out at football games, and during theater rehearsals, but drifted apart in the year before she died. When I heard the news, I felt like such a crappy, fake friend. I think I was mostly confused because I didn't understand how someone so seemingly normal and happy and vivacious could just be gone. Years later when I found out where she died, and why she was there, I was even more confused. I didn't go to her funeral (I don't remember why), but she was the first non-family death that shook me as well.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

I had a baby.

It's a boy. I actually came to blogger to write about something else, but then I realized I haven't announced that I did, in fact, birth my child, and he did, in fact, make it here, which I'm not making light of. It is a fact I repeat to myself often. He is here, we made it. I am his mother and Eric is his father. He is a person and he learns every day. While it is easy to see him for what he is most right now, which is CUTE , he is also mellow and funny and happy, observant and sometimes timid, and sometimes noisy, aware and eager to grow. It is an amazingly wonderful and spiritual thing and I'm grateful every day for my son and the opportunity to raise him each day. I have had too many close to home tragedies recently to take this for granted. My dear neighbor and friend lost her son at 4 years old, an unexplainable accident that took him home to Heavenly Father. Another, my sister's closest friend, lost her son at 39 weeks pregnant, his body born to his famil...

Pictures from the Cruise

To accompany the last post. And Eric is the best for sending me the pics! Because they are great. It's just from the zip lining in Ensenada but it was so fun. Just off the ship in Ensenada. The whole group. Love being a part of this family! Getting geared up. Literally.  Don't be fooled. I was petrified at this point. This is Dave and Katie but it's the best showing of the first bridge. Eric about to cross the first bridge. I think this was the 3rd one. This was the easiest, I thought. Even though I look a little off balanced here. This is Katie. But this one was actually the hardest I thought, because you had to reach so high. My shoulder killed for like 4 days after this. Oh, and how about an actual zip line?! Doesn't look fast, but it was. It shows the distance really well, though. Eric had had enough and decided to take over the mic for the duration of the "tour"

Just a little curious

 Does anyone else go back and read their own blog? Of course you do. It's a journal format. But I wonder if anyone goes and reads anyone else's blog still. I still read my parents' blogs, but even those have been several months. I haven't looked at my sisters' blogs in years, I don't know if I can remember the urls.  I logged in just to see if I could still get access so I'm leaving a little note to the world. It is so strange how the world changes. Personal blogs felt so permanent, but they weren't. They faded, and while it's still here, maybe no one else will ever read this again. Maybe an anthropologist digging through digital history trying to discover what the ancient world was... but doesn't it feel like all of this will be gone? And they'll be trying to learn more through my hairbrush and stanley cup?  But who am I to predict what will last and what will disappear?