A death in the Family
Not my biological or legal family, but the family of circus people that has been kind enough to adopt me. I won’t go into details, if you are reading this you either know who this was, or it wasn’t someone you knew, so a name and story won’t matter. Apparently death was fairly busy this weekend in circles I travel, at least two other friends of mine have lost family members this weekend. Ooops, Shane, I am sorry I can’t be there for either of you right now.
This is the second death of a friend this year, Angel earlier this year, now Jake. Both left me with the immediate need to get into the air. This time I am not the only one; anyone who could make it has spent all weekend at the trapeze rig, alternating between tears and flying. After the customers were gone, when it was just family, things got sillier, even by our standards. Trying to distract both ourselves and those around us with laughter? Maybe so, but it seems like there is more going on. Religious people have their faith as a comfort or crutch in times like these. They can find comfort in the belief that there is a reason for everything, some grand plan that makes the pain and suffering worth it. Sometimes there is no basis for this other than their belief system, sometimes there is an easy link to make, like a person dies and their donated heart or other organ saves the life of someone waiting on a transplant. (aside- supposedly you can only see someone’s true character in how they respond to tragedy. Despite the usual gruff, cynical exterior Jake’s father usually puts out, when I got up to the rig, roughly seven hours after the family got the news, Dave was trying to find options for organ and tissue donation, thinking of others, trying to find some good in the bad, either way, that’s the kind of man he is, and I can only hope to be that strong and caring if the time comes for me one day) Unlike my religious friends, I can find no such comfort. Looking at all that goes on in the world, I can only come to the conclusion that the universe, fate, life, nature, God, or whatever you believe is beyond us, really just plain doesn’t give a rats’ ass what happens to us. It’s all random chance and timing. A second’s difference, a single changed choice, and this would not have happened. But it did. No rhyme, no reason, no justice, no fair.
So, how does one deal with a completely impartial, unfeeling world? How do we handle death with no purpose? I think the clue lies in the silly antics we found ourselves drawn to this weekend. The only way to deal with death is to celebrate life. To move, to dance, to be, to push the boundaries of what we can do with our bodies and our lives while we have them, because we can never know when that opportunity will be taken from us. I grew up in New Orleans. I am not sure if it’s because death is so common there, even pre-Katrina, but the Cajuns (the Irish as well, not sure about other cultures- sorry if I leave anyone out) seem to have figured this out long ago, as evidenced by the second line, or Jazz funeral. We deal with death not with a somber, sad funeral, but with a parade, a loud party, singing and dancing to celebrate the beauty and vigor of the soul that was lost and to encourage those who are left behind. We get it. We sing, we dance, because the ones who have left would want that. They would not want us to hurt for them, so we drown our tears with song, ease the hurt in our bodies and souls with dance, in the air or on the ground. We play until the pain in our bodies numbs the pain in our spirits, and we do this as a prayer, an homage to those we miss. We take the joy and love they brought into the world and we celebrate it and honor it. Then slowly we move on with out lives, day by day, somewhat diminished by the absence of a loved one, but always holding what we can of them in our memories.
But we need that initial catharsis to start the healing process. And I believe a party is a much better way to get there than a traditional funeral. When I go one day, I hope that no one will wear black and stand around in silent tears while I am put in the ground. Take any part that can be useful to someone who needs it. Toss the rest into the ocean and let the fish get some use out of whatever they can. Then put up a memorial of whatever you feel necessary and have a raging party in front of it with song, dance and circus. Tears are inevitable, but I want them mixed in equal parts with laughter.
Or, barring that, do what I am doing now, drink heavily until you pass out. I’ll miss you Jake, thanks for everything you taught me about flying. Thanks for all the times you saved my life pulling lines. I wish I could have returned the favor when it counted. Say hello to Angel for me. Until I join you, wherever you are, anytime my feet leave the ground it will be dedicated to you both and I hope if you can see me from wherever you are it will make you smile and feel loved and missed.
This is the second death of a friend this year, Angel earlier this year, now Jake. Both left me with the immediate need to get into the air. This time I am not the only one; anyone who could make it has spent all weekend at the trapeze rig, alternating between tears and flying. After the customers were gone, when it was just family, things got sillier, even by our standards. Trying to distract both ourselves and those around us with laughter? Maybe so, but it seems like there is more going on. Religious people have their faith as a comfort or crutch in times like these. They can find comfort in the belief that there is a reason for everything, some grand plan that makes the pain and suffering worth it. Sometimes there is no basis for this other than their belief system, sometimes there is an easy link to make, like a person dies and their donated heart or other organ saves the life of someone waiting on a transplant. (aside- supposedly you can only see someone’s true character in how they respond to tragedy. Despite the usual gruff, cynical exterior Jake’s father usually puts out, when I got up to the rig, roughly seven hours after the family got the news, Dave was trying to find options for organ and tissue donation, thinking of others, trying to find some good in the bad, either way, that’s the kind of man he is, and I can only hope to be that strong and caring if the time comes for me one day) Unlike my religious friends, I can find no such comfort. Looking at all that goes on in the world, I can only come to the conclusion that the universe, fate, life, nature, God, or whatever you believe is beyond us, really just plain doesn’t give a rats’ ass what happens to us. It’s all random chance and timing. A second’s difference, a single changed choice, and this would not have happened. But it did. No rhyme, no reason, no justice, no fair.
So, how does one deal with a completely impartial, unfeeling world? How do we handle death with no purpose? I think the clue lies in the silly antics we found ourselves drawn to this weekend. The only way to deal with death is to celebrate life. To move, to dance, to be, to push the boundaries of what we can do with our bodies and our lives while we have them, because we can never know when that opportunity will be taken from us. I grew up in New Orleans. I am not sure if it’s because death is so common there, even pre-Katrina, but the Cajuns (the Irish as well, not sure about other cultures- sorry if I leave anyone out) seem to have figured this out long ago, as evidenced by the second line, or Jazz funeral. We deal with death not with a somber, sad funeral, but with a parade, a loud party, singing and dancing to celebrate the beauty and vigor of the soul that was lost and to encourage those who are left behind. We get it. We sing, we dance, because the ones who have left would want that. They would not want us to hurt for them, so we drown our tears with song, ease the hurt in our bodies and souls with dance, in the air or on the ground. We play until the pain in our bodies numbs the pain in our spirits, and we do this as a prayer, an homage to those we miss. We take the joy and love they brought into the world and we celebrate it and honor it. Then slowly we move on with out lives, day by day, somewhat diminished by the absence of a loved one, but always holding what we can of them in our memories.
But we need that initial catharsis to start the healing process. And I believe a party is a much better way to get there than a traditional funeral. When I go one day, I hope that no one will wear black and stand around in silent tears while I am put in the ground. Take any part that can be useful to someone who needs it. Toss the rest into the ocean and let the fish get some use out of whatever they can. Then put up a memorial of whatever you feel necessary and have a raging party in front of it with song, dance and circus. Tears are inevitable, but I want them mixed in equal parts with laughter.
Or, barring that, do what I am doing now, drink heavily until you pass out. I’ll miss you Jake, thanks for everything you taught me about flying. Thanks for all the times you saved my life pulling lines. I wish I could have returned the favor when it counted. Say hello to Angel for me. Until I join you, wherever you are, anytime my feet leave the ground it will be dedicated to you both and I hope if you can see me from wherever you are it will make you smile and feel loved and missed.