I don't know...
I don't know if I have the right to write about this.
The fiancee of a friend of mine died the other night. Heart attack. 22 years old. I didn't know him. But I know her. I keep reading her LJ posts and...it kills me. It kills me that she was finally happy. That this man was good for her. And now...
I think one of the worst parts is that she saw it. And that she'll have these haunting memories of details forever. I know what that part is like. When my aunt had that vaso-vegal syndrome and passed out at the dining room table...I have these images of her--eyes wide and blank--how she bobbed her head as if to be sick--how she looked like a body without a soul--I don't think they'll ever go away. The panicked daze I was in while on the phone with 911. And after she woke up and was okay, I kept seeing the other side of things--the "what if it ended the other way". I don't want that to have to be a reality for anyone.
And it is for Jenna.
What happened to her is always my worst fear when I'm in love. When I was with Stephen (who is alive and well right now), I could perfectly induce the feeling of grief upon myself as if hearing the news that he died. I would panic and, even in his healthful presence, feel like I had lost him.
I don't want to sound trite by saying the whole "life is precious" bit. It's not just precious. It's a miracle that so many of us are even alive right now. I don't believe in probability. I feel like if you're going to be plucked off the earth one by one, your chance is as good as...well, if it happened, it means it was going to happen. Odds don't help you.
Before I came to Japan, I thought I would die on the plane coming here. Now I'm worried I'll die before I get back and finish recording.
Mortality is such a bitch. Are we supposed to ignore it? The ones that have left us have simply moved out of state with no reliable method of communication?
Tell me if there's a right answer. How are we supposed to grieve?
The fiancee of a friend of mine died the other night. Heart attack. 22 years old. I didn't know him. But I know her. I keep reading her LJ posts and...it kills me. It kills me that she was finally happy. That this man was good for her. And now...
I think one of the worst parts is that she saw it. And that she'll have these haunting memories of details forever. I know what that part is like. When my aunt had that vaso-vegal syndrome and passed out at the dining room table...I have these images of her--eyes wide and blank--how she bobbed her head as if to be sick--how she looked like a body without a soul--I don't think they'll ever go away. The panicked daze I was in while on the phone with 911. And after she woke up and was okay, I kept seeing the other side of things--the "what if it ended the other way". I don't want that to have to be a reality for anyone.
And it is for Jenna.
What happened to her is always my worst fear when I'm in love. When I was with Stephen (who is alive and well right now), I could perfectly induce the feeling of grief upon myself as if hearing the news that he died. I would panic and, even in his healthful presence, feel like I had lost him.
I don't want to sound trite by saying the whole "life is precious" bit. It's not just precious. It's a miracle that so many of us are even alive right now. I don't believe in probability. I feel like if you're going to be plucked off the earth one by one, your chance is as good as...well, if it happened, it means it was going to happen. Odds don't help you.
Before I came to Japan, I thought I would die on the plane coming here. Now I'm worried I'll die before I get back and finish recording.
Mortality is such a bitch. Are we supposed to ignore it? The ones that have left us have simply moved out of state with no reliable method of communication?
Tell me if there's a right answer. How are we supposed to grieve?