It was a bad day. Rather, it was a bad month. Losing family members and friends is always hard, but I usually deal with it better than most. I view death differently. I see it as a transition from one state of being to the next. In that sense, nothing ever really dies. It just changes.
So imagine my surprise when I find myself losing my mind over the death of a family member that I loved dearly - my "grand-uncle". I hadn't seen him in years due to tension throughout our family. Stupid things, really. I see that now. Up until then, I had always been able to remain composed and keep in mind that those I loved weren't really gone. When I heard the news, it felt like all the oxygen was sucked out of the air. I felt hollow. Shocked. I didn't understand why I wasn't dealing with it the way I normally do.
And then there was the funeral. As I saw him lying there in the coffin, his wife sitting by his side looking more frail and lost than I had ever seen her, I couldn't keep control. Her eyes were small and watery. Her thin, pale frame trembled with grief and such a hopelessness that mirrored what I felt inside. She didn't recognize me at first. I'm not sure she ever fully comprehended who I was and that made it all the more painful. I had loved them both dearly, like my own grandparents. And because family members decided to be at odds with each other (namely my mother and my "father's" adopted parents), I had kept myself from them. It was easier, I told myself, better. But it wasn't.
I couldn't find words to say to her; I couldn't make my mouth speak to tell her that I love her, that I was so sorry I wasn't there. I couldn't. I just stood there, holding her hand and crying as her small eyes stared into mine with such pain that I felt my defenses crumbling. I was before her, unprotected from her emotion and mine. I became sick. My brother rescued me by stepping up and voicing his condolences as I gave her hand one last squeeze and moved to the coffin where my cousin - her grandchild - stood watch over her late grandfather.
He was pale, as expected, and too perfect. His lips were thin and drawn wide. His veins didn't show as they had in life. He had no tan, no imperfections in his skin that made him so utterly... him. Though I had spent the morning looking at pictures of him, I didn't recognize him laying there. It wasn't right. There was something so grotesque in how peaceful and perfect he looked. People always say that it looks as if the dead are merely sleeping. To me, it couldn't be further from the truth. I couldn't look at him for very long. I couldn't stand there. I had to get away. It scared me, what I saw. It was too real. It was too frightening.
I found a pew in the chapel toward the back, but not too far from the front to be conspicuous or disrespectful. I sat between my older brother and my fiance, praying that my father wouldn't show up, that his parents wouldn't corner me, demanding to know what I was doing there among their family. But as I watched the looped slideshow of pictures - moments of his life that I had missed, I realized with a stab of regret - I was met with nothing but kindness. Sure, my grandparents kept their distance; my grandmother sat beside her sister as she grieved for her husband as soon as I left the room. But that didn't bother me. Everyone else put aside all the bullshit going on and treated me like I belonged there, even if they didn't speak to me directly. A watery smile. An affectionate nod of the head as I passed. Family hugged me, held my hands, came up to me (as well as my brother and mum) to say how they thought about us every day and how sorry they were. They told us that we were welcome in their homes any time.
This brought some measure of comfort, but a new knife of sharp pain to my heart. It should never have taken the death of a loved one for us to realize how stupid all the fighting was. Life is too short to let the arguments between a couple of people tear a family apart into sides. If my parents argue, it's between them. If my grandparents snub us, that's their own problem. I am no longer going to let people dictate who I see and care about. Family is family. Friends are friends. Thier quarrels have nothing to do with me and I refuse to let another person I care about leave this earth without knowing that I love them.
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