I wrote the title and then realized how ironic. Lessons about life that we learn through the process of death.
I got to thinking tonight of all the ways death has taken over my life. Iv been through death enough but losing Ethan was one of the worst deaths you can experience. The death of a child.
Now I know to some because he never breathed on his own, he is not really considered a human. But I have all the proof I need in my heart.
Anyways back to the topic. Death has consumed parts of me the past fifteen months.
Iv learned to never take for granted a single day. Although I must admit I'm human I do get caught up in the busy days, and forget to breath and say "I need to make today count".
I don't go to bed angry and I try for my last words to be loving, I'm scared that otherwise tomorrow will never come. I wont be able to take things back if God forbid something happen.
Life has flashed before my very eyes and death has left a foul taste in my mouth. Now I don't think a day goes by that I'm not scared of losing someone else close to me.
I remember as a little girl, my grandfather died. I think that was the very first time death looked me in the eye. He was a male figure and I loved him very much.
The way he held us, his big glasses, the smell of his clothes, the little candy dish by the front door. That little candy dish is where I started my love for those little candies in a strawberry wrapping, its pink and the center has a chewy texture.
Whenever I eat those now I think of him. The hardest part was being a young girl and going to the funeral of a man I didn't want to say goodbye to. That's where I first remember being angry at God and the cycle of life.
They played "wind beneath my wings", and that song still to this day can bring me to my knees and make me cry. He had a viewing and I remember seeing him so cold and he didn't look like himself in that big old casket.
He was no long this big burly man, he looked skinny, cold, white. I remember the first time I peared into the casket I felt like I was punched in the stomach.
I cried and I was scared. Death took a part of me at that very moment.
I mean they tell you from such a young age how when we lose someone they go to heaven and its such a beautiful place. But yet the pain and sting from death is so opposite. He didn't look happy, warm or anything you would expect.
I remember touching him and how cold he was. It was a very weird feeling as a child. He died right before my aunts sixteenth birthday. I remember feeling so bad for myself and her at the same time. Losing your father days before a special time in your life.
I know she spiralled out of control after his death. I cant imagine doing much different. My father died when I was five but I was fortunate enough to be so young and not quite get it.
I think from early on I learned the world was unsafe because sooner or later someone I loved would be gone. Maybe not always from death but life in general.
Death has surrounded me from age five.
I lost my father, then my grandfather, a few other relatives, my great-grandfather, Ethan and my great grandmother will not be around much longer.
I think I also felt the great need to be at their graves because it meant I loved them. When I was growing up and I had a hard time Id go to my dads grave. I would just lay there with him and cry and pour out my heart.
Id also beg and plead that he could hear me. I missed him so much. As an adult I took my kids to his grave in hopes if I did he would be proud of me and get to see my kids.
I don't know where this came from, but I know its a little silly. If there is a Heaven than he must be able to look down and see them and me right?
After losing Ethan I would go to his grave several times a week. Now I only go every few weeks because the pain I get when I go hurts so much. It hurts to know I'm standing above my baby's body, that he is in that cold ground. I know this will sound morbid but I also wonder what he looks like under there now? I mean I know its bones and stuff but I still wonder.
I'm sure because I frequently get dreams the nurses lied to me and they buried him alive so I go to dig him up. But I always wake up before I get to see him.
It hurts to see new babies being buried and to know I know their parents pain all too well. It hurts to know I cant get him this huge head stone that is done perfectly for him just the way we'd like.
I don't know death sucks plain and simple. Although the grieving that results from death is anything but that.
So life lessons from death I'm sure I'm missing a ton
*life is fragile
*tomorrow may never come
*learning a new sense of normal is painful and trying
*death is not pretty
*closure may not always be possible
*anything outside the box is frighting
*death can take a piece of you with it