It’s rare that I write something for school that applies to the real world. This did, especially today.
On Loss
Eighteen years ago today, I lost my big brother. No, that is a stupid thing to say; I didn’t lose him, he died. Six years before that, my father died. Three years ago, both my mother and my oldest sister died. My father’s death, and that of my brother (stroke and car accident, respectively) were sudden, unsuspected, and shocking. My mother’s and sister’s (Alzheimer’s and cancer), were slow, agonizing, and, if I’m being honest, longed-for, once they were beyond modern medicine’s capacity for help.
I miss them all, and not a single day has gone by since their deaths that I haven’t thought of each of them, sometimes with sadness, but more often with joy for having known them. I still live on the farm that we grew up on. My earliest memories revolve around my family working and playing in the same yard and fields that I walk every day. I never use the old driveway without thinking, “This is the spot where Dad died.”
When I look out my back window, I see my one remaining sister’s house, and the basement apartment where my mother spent her last days, the window of the bedroom where I sat with her body, weeping quietly.
The one thing that I have never felt though, is loss.
I often wonder at people who do seem to; the grave decorators, the people with loved one’s names and dates tattooed on them, the folks with the commemorative stickers decorating their cars, the ones who, years after a loved one’s death, insist on posting on Facebook constantly about how much they miss whoever it is that they miss.
It seems, to me anyway, very sad, and almost masturbatory. No, to be honest, it seems explicitly masturbatory, like if they are not constantly reminding themselves, and everyone they know, how much they miss their loved one, then that loved one will cease to exist, or ever have existed. They seem to need to keep that wound open, raw, and sore, or they will be in some way betraying their dead.
When something is lost, you don’t know where it is.
I suppose I am lucky, in that I live where I do. I don’t need tattoos or stickers to remind me. I just have to look out my window to see the land my dead shaped. The place where my sister used to put me on her horse and lead it around. The spot where my brother got my car stuck in the field. The hill where my dad beat my, and my little brother’s, asses for almost hitting my mom with a mudball when we were supposed to be working. It’s not that I don’t miss them, because I do, every day. For me though, they are not lost, they are still here, still walking these fields and hills with me.
I never visit the graveyard where they, along with my grandparents, aunts and uncles are buried, much less decorate their graves. For me, they are not there. They are somewhere else, waiting for me, and I am confident that I will see them again. Until then, I keep them right where they have always been, right here in my heart.
The one thing that I have never felt is loss. I feel sad for those who do.
I think that’s a strength that you have, and you are right, you’re lucky to be surrounded by the memories. Maybe that’s why some people have trouble, they aren’t in that situation. Also I don’t think the majority of people visit gravesites thinking someone is there, or out of loss. They go to show honor, in memoriam. Same for those who feel sadness each year on an anniversary (such as today for you) and share about it, or get tattoos. I felt very privileged to visit my grandfather’s grave 12 years ago for the first time. I didn’t leave anything, but my younger sister and I took pictures of ourselves near the grave. I was 13 when he died and we were in another state. Only my father was able to go to the funeral. So I’d never seen it. I certainly didn’t go because I thought he was there. Neither did I feel surrounded by loss or sadness; I was instead surrounded by history. Because my great aunts were laid to rest nearby. The three of them (my great aunts and my grandfather) were children of Ukrainian Jewish immigrants who escaped the persecutions of the pogroms to make a home in Philadelphia, and eventually they all three moved west to California, which means I wouldn’t be here except by a certain chain of events. History makes me feel alive, gives me a feeling of awe to remember where my family came from. Graves are places to go and remember. I think grief, loss, looking back, any of that, CAN be crippling. But some people don’t visit graves or post on Facebook or get tattoos because they’re in denial, or they have an inability to cope with the realities of life (which includes death); they refuse to look at the past for the same reasons. Anything can be crippling or unhealthy. Each one must look to his or herself and examine his or her own life to know if it’s ok. Blessings to you on this day and every other day. 🙂
I miss Rich too, I’m sorry for your loss.
Lloyd, thanks for sharing your feelings. You are right about your concept of loss….I believe that’s how believers feel because haven’t lost our loved ones. We shall see them again!
That’s what I think. Anyway, glad you liked it. Thanks for reading!
Bless your heart Lloyd ? I’m Absolutely on your side of the fence on your thoughts sweet brother… There IS a joy knowing wholeheartedly where they all are & they wouldn’t trade coming back here for anything! When my Mom passed last November at 90, I felt such a peace for her that she finally joined my Dad after yearning to be with him since he died in June 2001 before his 79th b’day (which wouldve been the tragic 911) and was grateful he didn’t see that. Thank you for your words of sincerity and love … you have such beautiful memories & I thank you for sharing your heartstrings with those of us who needed to hear this encouragement… You profoundly carry on the legacy that Rich truly exemplified as to bring others that same hope to run wild with … Blessings of sweet joy to you and your beautiful family ???
Well, thanks. I’m not sure you’re not giving me too much credit, but I’m glad you liked the post. Thanks for reading!
We are lucky in that we are here on the farm and were molded by our parents good or bad they loved us very much. We received such a wonderful life from them and we will see them again someday.
I thought about what you said and I am one that has posted about losing my mom. It was and is still so hard for me 18mths later. I guess I believe grief is such a personal thing. Everyone in their own way. Hopefully Gods way for them. I post only at the Holidays and get birthday. I guess I want her to be remembered. She was amazing and I feel like everyone needs to know. (Not really everyone). I have her with me everyday and am so much like her. I am also a strong Christian who knows I will see her again and didn’t want anything to do with her burial or grave. She is not there. “Why do you seek the living among the dead” is what I would like posted on mine one day. Yet, I still grieve. God is walking me through this valley but I believe each valley is different for each loss. I know yours is just one perspective as mine is but wanted to share. God bless.
You are a gifted writer (seriously!) and able to express yourself wonderfully. Bit jealous here, but I have to disagree with the heart of this post. Not because I don’t believe it’s genuine for you, but that I don’t believe others are wrong to grieve and process differently. It’s so easy for us to presume our feelings are right and that everyone “should” be like or believe like us, when in fact, we’re all created incredibly different and come at things with different DNA, history’s and such. Meaning, we all handle things differently and our journey’s different as well as personal to us, individually. We come to loss with varying abilities and at varying times. Both my parents passed and I moved along smoothly. Then some years later my husband passed and I fell apart and still feel his loss, yes, nine years later. I don’t go around with a pity party or ploying for attention, but I feel the loss deeply. There is a part of me that is gone, not forever, but gone from my life on this earth. I do agree with your comment that those gone on are certainly not lost. They’re certainly not. I’m absolutely assured of Doug’s Home and would NEVER want him to come back and endure all that he had to endure. I am thoroughly excited and happy for him, yes, even more than a bit jealous. He passed away on a Christmas Day and at the same time as crying my eyes out, my heart was filled with joy at his having obtained the best Present he could have. He was set free into the arms of Jesus and spared from indescribable pain and from an upcoming (what I consider to be) barbaric surgery.
I greatly miss the qualities his life afforded me. He helped to make up my other half. His strengths complimented my weaknesses and mine, his. And, I can’t begin to say how much I miss his companionship. Our conversations were incredible and life-giving!!!
I’ll say in closing and not to hurt anyone, I promise – but I find those who believe we shouldn’t grieve or feel loss have little understanding and are shooting from their hip in ways that can be very damaging. One needs to take great caution with presumption about others. One can feel loss or pain and still have joy. Maybe that liner people use about until one walks in another’s shoes is not completely accurate. One can walk in another’s shoes on one level, but they’re not able to walk in those shoes with the makeup of the other person. It’s just quite impossible. Empathy would be a good word to use here and is one of the traits of the God, Who comes alongside those bowed down.
I still love your writings. I’m just on a different page from this one.
Hey Melody. No worries, I’m usually more surprised at how many people seem to agree with me than how many don’t. Also, I didn’t mean to minimize your grief (or anyone else’s). I know what it is to grieve. I pretty much had a nervous breakdown following my brother’s death, and helping to care for my mom gave me a heart attack. Grief is natural and unavoidable. What I was talking about is the intentional prolonging of those feelings of loss. Like you, I know my loved ones are in a much better place than this, and they also continue to live in my heart. I will always miss them, but I don’t need to commemorate and broadcast it. That’s what I’m talking about. The continuously tearing open of old wounds publicly, especially in Christians, who should, like you, rejoice that their loved one’s suffering is over, and look forward to seeing them again. Anyway, like I said, no harm done, and I appreciate and respect your dissent. Also, it’s entirely possible that I am completely wrong on this (trust me, it’s happened before!). Anyway, thanks for reading! And thinking!