Just as day overcomes the darkness of night only to fade leaving no sign, not even a glimmer, life miraculously is and then, it is no more.
That’s how I used to think about death and the space between now and then.
I am a middle child who grew up as an oldest but seemingly never forgot that I was in the middle. My older brother, who in his time stood taller than me and owned my affection, lived a relatively short life. But that was so long ago. A lifetime ago. I was really young. Five. Much of the details about his illness escape me. There is not a day, however, that I forget that he died. I have three lasting memories about my brother, Colby: repeated trips to St. Jude’s in Memphis, playing with our Star Wars figurines in our bedroom closet and playing in the back yard on a wood stack. That’s it.
Well, I do have a final thought. Standing next to the hearse as they put his body into it. It was raining that day, or at least it felt like it. I wanted only to escape that day and for things to be different. My dad’s heavy, able hand resting on my chest as I stood as tall as I could in front of him. I was five years old and did not fully understand why I was crying, but I do remember a deep loss settle within my heart, and a fear.
In the twenty eight years following, I found so much life. Just as the warmth and beauty of a new day can cause you to forget haunting dreams that reside in the night, life and all of its goodness can effectively distance you from the crisis of tragedy and death. All is mostly good during the day. In fact, most is great. Life was amazing for us. Then unannounced and unwanted day slipped into night. Death arrived, again.
Night returns. The day fades no matter how certain things seem.
I can remember being in such a fog for most of the year following Marianne’s death. A mother and a wife gone with no sign, no good reason and no meaningful explanation. Just no more.
Death took so much for me. Reason. Faith. Trust. Hope. Breath.
Inadvertently, and maybe even gracefully, death also took fear from me. Death has become a friend teaching me value; what to hold tightly and what to let loose. In a peculiar way, that is a little unsettling at times, I am thankful.
For without night, there would be no hope or expectation in a new day. Death reminds me that life is full and that I have much, so much, to be thankful for.
I wrote this in a draft of my memoir: "I have fewer fears concerning the future now that I’ve stood at the edge of my child’s grave." It seems like a contradictory statement, but I think death is the thing we all fear the most. Once you have faced it and eventually found your way out of bed, out of the fog, again, then you realize part of its power is broken.
Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours, Guy!
I relate to this tremendously. i also lost a brother and they statement that you said about it raining that day or at least felt like it. I relate to that 100% . I remember it raining the day we buried him but everyone else said it wasn't but thats all water under a bridge now a bridge that cant be crossed again. I love reading your blogs it is exactly how i have felt and stuff i go through not that i lost my spouse are anything but I have faced death all to much. loosing 4 out of 6 people in my family in only 4 year. and all by my freshman year of college. Thanks for doing what you do and keep on doing it God is truly praised!!
Thanks for writing what I sometimes are too afraid to say. I'm Thankful for having crossed your path.