So it goes

I wish there were something eloquent I could say about death. I wish there were something I could write that would make the pain of death go away. But I don't feel I'm really capable of either.

Prior to this year, there were only really two deaths that truly touched my life. Uncle John died when I was in elementary school (I'd like to say 1987, but I'm not quite sure). I remember going over to my aunt and uncle's apartment and I remember being there with my cousins when they told us. I remember parts of the flight to Florida and have a couple of random snippets of memory from being there, but not much else.
So it goes.

My younger cousin Keith died last year. Although it was by no means a shock, it was amazing that he had survived that long, we all knew that it would happen sooner rather than later.
So it goes.

Sarah has been dead now for a bit over 10 months. Although her death is no longer an ever present thought overwhelming me every day like it used to, I still think about her frequently. I still find it extremely hard to grasp that she is gone. That I will NEVER see her again. This isn't some trip she's gone on, to come back and tell me of her adventures. This isn't a new life out west for her and her husband. She isn't here any more. When I do think about her, I am still overcome with grief and sorrow and regret. I wish there were something I could find comfort in, but so far it hasn't materialized.
So it goes.

Last week a program friend passed away. Today was his funeral and I'm glad I went. His funeral was truly a celebration of his life. Although I knew there would be a lot of people there, it amazed me that the church was packed. I'm sure if everyone I could hear talking in the hallway had tried to come into the sanctuary to sit, it would have been standing room only. What I would like most to carry with me that I learned from Alvin, and that all four people who spoke about him said, is the ability to be kind and truly present. To truly give of oneself. I remember quite a few years ago, after the Friday evening meeting, a few were getting ready to go out to dinner as we usually did. For whatever reason, that week I just didn't have money to eat out. Alvin insisted that he would pay for me. I dislike 'gifts' like these. I prefer to pay my own way and can be very stubborn about it. But Alvin wouldn't hear it, so off we all went to dinner. I've never forgotten his kindness.
So it goes.

A program friend's mom died this week. If there were any woman who I've met who I could say put up a good fight, it is she. I didn't get to meet her until this summer when she was already quite ill, but even in that state I could see the shear amount of spirit she exuded. I know she will be missed by many people.
So it goes.

I know logically that we all will die eventually. It really is the only thing certain in life. I know someone said the only two things certain in life are death and taxes. But if you really think about it, even taxes aren't certain. But death is. And so I still grieve in sobs and wails and tears and anger, not quite understanding what is happening in my head. Still not quite sure how to stop the tears once they start. Still wishing that I'd get a call, inviting me to dinner, because Sarah is in town again.