“When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.” ~Kahlil Gibran
Perhaps sadness is all I know, at a young age it came to me, extending a warmth and comfort I believe anyone would welcome. Most actually do, as it is necessary to feel; sad, angry, happy, fearful. Usually though only to a point and for most I believe a cut off exists, a change in the dance, a slowing down of the palpitating heart. Well for me, a lover of all things unhealthy, instead of leaving the cave I found myself placed in, my body adjusted to the temperature and as time went on I got more comfortable; ventured deeper into the darkness this shelter brought, attaching roots and veins, assuming it as my identity. The simple psychology of choosing the wrong thing despite better knowledge only because it is familiar. So familiar that it becomes an instinct, a need.
From the age of 11 to 13, maybe longer, I lived in my head, found music in my cave, cried tears like Cry-baby, even though I never had a direct cause or reason, everything smashed into one. I struggled with the idea of home, having moved around a bit, something always went missing and every new discovery seemed to only mock the last that was lost. I became unattached to many things, gained a protective sense over materials that belonged to my mother. I struggled with emotions felt but didn’t have any answers and believed admitting this out loud would bring my fears to life, so I remained in silence. I wrote and fought against a darkness within me, until I surrendered to its every touch.
Many years later, we are brought to last Monday, a second bulb on my lights of life has gone out, in exchange for another star in my night sky. This time though, I am old enough to understand, observe and feel within reason. Caught between giving thanks for the life lived, the years we were blessed to witness, hold, feed and the fact that it is over, have had me within yet without my being. I find myself, double checking everything, as I’ve forgotten whether or not I’ve done it; slightly more than the norm, an already troubling amount.
Death is something we will all face one day, but knowing that this particular person has less days, or was blessed with many second chances that turned into years of life, when the time finally comes it is not necessarily a surprise, but that punch in the stomach is no less painful. The placement of thought may vary, for me I think acceptance is guiding much of that steadiness I seem to have at the moment, or perhaps as in any other aspect of my life, my reaction may just be delayed.
Concerns of what comes after, lay heavy on my chest, but I am trying to find balance in feeling and not feeling. As a highly sensitive person, I’m probably shifting feelings to unhealthy places, storing them in compartments that may result in calamity later on, but for now, we will deal with this later on. I need to be strong for her and find peace in the answer of why. Find peace even when words, senses bring forth no why or semblance of understanding and simply just is.
The funeral is on Monday.
Love you, Grandpa.