Monday, October 02, 2006

Loss and Sadness

Today, I went to a funeral by myself.

With no tissue.

Bad move. Very bad move.

As I write this, I have one of those headaches that are specifically created by crying. My whole head aches, my face aches, my eyebrows ache. And I ache for the pain of the family who lost a dear man. A husband to a woman of 48 years. A loving father to two children. A kind grandfather to four grandsons and a beautiful granddaughter.

I’ve never been to a funeral by myself. As I drove there, I was thinking that I am perhaps now a grown-up, because grown-ups are people who go to funerals by themselves. But I’m also an idiot for going to a funeral without a single tissue.

I didn’t think I’d cry. I barely knew him. In fact, I didn’t know him. I was in the same room with him once, maybe twice. Maybe he smiled at me. Maybe he said hello. Maybe I wish I would have had a conversation with him.

Today, I learned about him. And I mourned the loss of his family. And I felt sad.

I thought about what it would be like to be his wife. His wife of 48 years. The mother of his two children. What it must be like for her to have to sleep in a bed now, for the rest of her life, with no warm familiar body next to hers.

What would that be like to have to live out the rest of your life without the one person you most loved, depended on, spent the most time with, laughed with, experienced the births of your children, your grandchildren… to not have that any longer?

How does one go on?

I thought of the casket, and what it would be like if my own father was inside. How I would feel. Would I want to touch the wood, knock on it, ask, “Daddy, are you okay in there?” How would it be to finally leave that casket at the cemetery, to know it was going deep into the ground, and to have to leave it, leave my father out there. Alone.

I can look out my window and see my friend’s home. I see her children every day. I see her get into her car, take her kids to school, walk their cute puppy. I see when they have visitors, when they take the trash in, when they get the mail. I see her laugh with other neighbors, I see the kindness in her actions. Every day.

I can’t stop thinking about how different her life is going to be now. Now that her daddy is no longer on this earth. And it makes me sad. And I want to make things better for her. And there’s really nothing I can do. What words can help someone who’s lost someone that close to them? What words will make his wife feel less sad, less alone, less angry? That they’ll be together again someday? That earth is just a small blip on the screen of the grand plan? That there’s an explanation to all of this, but we are not yet privileged to know what that plan is?

I guess someday, we will know the meaning of it all. And it will seem so obvious, so wonderfully obvious, we’ll ask, “How could we not have known?”

11 comments:

Boo7 said...

WOW manic...thank-you...that was a very deep and thought provoking post....and all so very true!!

Manic Mom said...

Thanks, it came from the heart. It's been a sad day. See, I'm not all martini and fluff!

Trish said...

How very sad. There is nothing like a funeral to start the tears flowing even for people we don't know or hardly know. I think it is because it drives home how vulnerable we all are, and precious and lucky.

I went to my aunts funeral with a couple of tissues in my pocket...they were toast in about 15 minutes. Lesson learned. Next time...and there is always a next time...I will have to swing by Sams Club and pick up as many packages as I can fit in my purse.

Ramblin Rose said...

Excellent thought provoking post Manic!!

I too wonder how she or others cope when they loose loved ones and sleeping in beds by themselves...

RR

Bossy♥'s YOU said...

damnit woman..u made me all teary eyed.

it is so very sad.

My dad, who is 51 had surgery today..and i live in a differnt state then he does..all day I kept thinking about what would happen if somethng went wrong..it was an awful feeling.

nice post manic mom..your A ok in bossys book:)

now lets go have a vanilla cone dipped in butterscotch:)

Jess Riley said...

My grandfather died in 1997 and my grandma still signs birthday and Christmas cards: "Love Grandma and :-)" She actually draws a smiley face in the card next to her name.

Brony said...

That was a very honest, heart-felt post. Thank you for letting us in. I am so sorry that you had a day of crying. It does help to heal the soul.

You are right, one day we will know the meaning.

Karitown said...

I'm so sorry. I hate funerals. I've been to a few now, and I know there are more coming. It's awful but I just try to believe that everything happens for a reason.

Trish Ryan said...

When a close friend's father died when we were in college, I sobbed uncontrollably at the funeral, even though I'd never met him. What undid me was the absolute certainty that one day it would be me in the front pew, saying goodbye to my father, and I couldn't imagine how life would go on.

I'm glad you blogged about this - nice to know we can share the real stuff here in bloggerworld and not have to pretend that every day is funny.

Swishy said...

Awwwwwww Manic! It says good things about you that you can go and feel empathy for other people's sadness.

And of course you're not all martini and fluff! LOL. :)

Dorothy said...

Ohh....that's what I hate about funerals. Same goes with weddings. It takes you back.