Looking into That Pallid, Bony Face
Let me take this momentary lull in my crying to write an entry that is a little atypical for me, but I need to write this one. Writing cleanses my soul and emotions, and boy, do I need it right now.
There comes a point in (just about) every person's life where we have to stare death in the face. It sits there on the other side of the table from us, speechless, wordless, expressionless, emotionless. After all, what emotions does death need to have? Death is the epitome of cold, harsh reality. Other than taxes, it's the only certainty in life, to quote the popular joke. And Death sits there at the other side of the table, looking at us, presenting us with its icy glazed expression, waiting to see what we will do. Do we flinch or cry? Do we try to run or do we dare him to do his worst? In the end, Death really doesn't care what our reaction is-really only testing us for his own amusement. After we present our emotional baggage to him, he simply stands up, takes what he came to take, and leaves us there to do whatever we wish.
The emotions that spill out immediately following a death, really don't matter when the rubber meets the road though. This isn't to diminish the importance of them of course, for those tears or wails, the pain or solemn faces... they stand for something. All of it stands for the love that had filled our hearts for the deceased, and during such extreme moments of life, it overflows out of our body and into the open, our hearts unable to contain that sense of lost love. It represents a transitory time between knowing the deceased as one who was once alive and one who is now dead, just like that space between "Now Leaving Ohio" and "Now Entering Indiana." The emotions expressed become a healing process, a time where we cope with the sudden shift of change in the air. Certainly, every person who experiences this, the loss of someone close, needs that time and space so that he or she can attempt once again to feel "at home" in the state just over the boundary line.
But in the end, that outpouring of love that has been spilled upon the floor is nothing more than what it is: a symbol of that love. Crying, sobbing, comforting, and so on, while all cathartic, are all the wrong things to focus on. Instead, we must always turn our attentions, inevitably, to what that symbol represents deep within: the love that was, is, and always will be there. We must continue to focus on what it is that made that relationship great, what kept pulling us ever toward that someone special. Sure, the acts of kindness fade into fond memories, and the tense in which we speak of that someone changes, but the focus is nevertheless the same as it always was. And, really, holding onto that single focus is what always makes Indiana come. It's what pulls us through the worst of times.
Mandy, though you got in trouble tons, you were a wonderful dog and friend. You loved and were worthy of love. Though I wish I could've been there with you in Ohio for your final moments, I can certainly wish you the best wherever you are now.
There comes a point in (just about) every person's life where we have to stare death in the face. It sits there on the other side of the table from us, speechless, wordless, expressionless, emotionless. After all, what emotions does death need to have? Death is the epitome of cold, harsh reality. Other than taxes, it's the only certainty in life, to quote the popular joke. And Death sits there at the other side of the table, looking at us, presenting us with its icy glazed expression, waiting to see what we will do. Do we flinch or cry? Do we try to run or do we dare him to do his worst? In the end, Death really doesn't care what our reaction is-really only testing us for his own amusement. After we present our emotional baggage to him, he simply stands up, takes what he came to take, and leaves us there to do whatever we wish.
The emotions that spill out immediately following a death, really don't matter when the rubber meets the road though. This isn't to diminish the importance of them of course, for those tears or wails, the pain or solemn faces... they stand for something. All of it stands for the love that had filled our hearts for the deceased, and during such extreme moments of life, it overflows out of our body and into the open, our hearts unable to contain that sense of lost love. It represents a transitory time between knowing the deceased as one who was once alive and one who is now dead, just like that space between "Now Leaving Ohio" and "Now Entering Indiana." The emotions expressed become a healing process, a time where we cope with the sudden shift of change in the air. Certainly, every person who experiences this, the loss of someone close, needs that time and space so that he or she can attempt once again to feel "at home" in the state just over the boundary line.
But in the end, that outpouring of love that has been spilled upon the floor is nothing more than what it is: a symbol of that love. Crying, sobbing, comforting, and so on, while all cathartic, are all the wrong things to focus on. Instead, we must always turn our attentions, inevitably, to what that symbol represents deep within: the love that was, is, and always will be there. We must continue to focus on what it is that made that relationship great, what kept pulling us ever toward that someone special. Sure, the acts of kindness fade into fond memories, and the tense in which we speak of that someone changes, but the focus is nevertheless the same as it always was. And, really, holding onto that single focus is what always makes Indiana come. It's what pulls us through the worst of times.
Mandy, though you got in trouble tons, you were a wonderful dog and friend. You loved and were worthy of love. Though I wish I could've been there with you in Ohio for your final moments, I can certainly wish you the best wherever you are now.