Death and grief- going home?

How fortunate we are to be different than animals- to experience the power of love, the moments of excitement, joy, anger, and hope- but with it, we also must experience the perils of grief and loss. Would it be better to be like other living animals- to just be able to live in the primal moment? As much as I would answer that question in the affirmative when in the throngs of grief, I do believe there is truth to the sentiment that the only way to truly appreciate the warmth and light of summer is to know the cold dark winter. I know that we experience emotional pain because we have the comprehensive capabilities to understand love. This is a double-edged sword. So is it better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all?

I express these thoughts from the position of having lost my father just over 3 months ago, and knowing that my grandmother is currently in the hospital most likely to suffer the same fate several weeks shy of her 93^rd birthday. This has been a year of grief and loss.

There are steps you are supposed to take in preparing for a funeral- everything is lined out for you to do. It’s after the funeral that things get real tricky- when the order and structure fade to silence and your left alone with your grief. How do you put yourself back together again? There is no one-size fits all method- everyone must face and deal with grief in their own time. But the sentiments I found repeated to me over and over were that how I move forward is my choice- that I should feel the pain but not drown in it, that whatever I am feeling is ok and is right, and that I will do what is best for myself in my own time. As strange as grieving a loved one will inevitably feel, you will pick yourself up and you will move forward- because the world will continue to turn.

People often mention the phrase “going home” when discussing lost loved ones. I hope that my dad went home- to be with his mother and father. I don’t think that spiritually or emotionally I am ready to unpack that idea yet. I’ve always really wanted to feel a spiritual connection but I don’t currently. Perhaps someday I will feel my father’s presence. Maybe I’ll feel him with me in my laugh- the kind that vibrates in the pit of your stomach, or through a familiar voice on the radio, or perhaps we will meet in a dream.

And so it begins

Most of the time I don't feel like I am real or that the world is actually happening- because when I acknowledge that I'm real I get scared. Most of the time the voice in my head is the narration to a book about my life- it's only when I stop to feel the weight of my breath that I know this isn't a dream. And it's moments like this that make everything seem out of control. I think a lot of people find comfort, happiness, and purpose in religion- I've always wanted to be one of those people. I think I should start journaling again.