Usually when all else fails, I write, when no one seems to hear me, I write, when I am trying to make sense of things, I write, when I am constantly being told by people “I understand you, and hear what you are saying,”I write. But do they really understand is my question? A month or so ago on a Saturday, let’s just say it was a hard day, but not for the reason you would think. You see I sat through an eight hour volunteer orientation that’s main focus was on…….death. At first I felt fine as the day progressed , but as we started getting into the activities that is where my mind began to wonder and begin to accept how inevitable death is for all of us.(I know, I know, this is the last thing people usually want to talk about but just continue reading.) I think the thing that took the cake and gave me the spooks for me was writing my own obituary. I felt my stomach sink as I continued to fill out the paper. Then I arrived to the portion of the paper that asked what would you want be remembered for? Without hesitation the first thing that came to my mind was my love of singing and my art that I love to share with people like you. But in actuality this made me wonder, what would/will I really be remembered for when I die?Saying the word die instead of pass away gives me that same sinking feeling in my stomach I got while writing my own obituary.The day continued and we had more activities that tested and gave us a different perspective on death and dealing with being in the field of hospice. By the end of the day I was exhausted, ready to go home to decompress, and I felt emotionally drained. I said goodbye to everyone, exited the building and headed to my car. I immediately made a phone call and to make a long story short I was told my granddad on my mother’s side had passed away. I continued the conversation with my mom and it was as if nothing had happened. Deep down I hadn’t really sorted through how I felt, I just continued to listen to talk on the phone without processing my feelings. After hanging up I instantly felt my body become tense and my stomach dropped. I drove home while trying to ignore the different things my body was feeling. By the time I got home I was super tense. I began acknowledging the one time I think I met my grandpa a few years back.To be honest the thing that really saddened me was lack of relationship between me and him and how detached my family on my mother’s side is and continues to be. It sickens me how cold people can be. It’s crazy and it baffles me how my family chooses to remain so broken. I feel and have been shown no one wants to change their behavior, no one wants to tell the others what they want or need in the different relationships (mother-daughter, sister to sister, etc), everyone just seems to write each other off and not speak and then that’s it. This is how it’s been for years and I feel like all they do is blame one another, when truly the blame should be directed at the person they see when they look in the mirror. We are all responsible for our relationships with the people in our lives, We control our behaviors, we control how willing/open we are to love one another. Failures, lack of relationships and death all just a part of this thing we call life.
R.I.P to the grandfather I never knew and the relationship I never had with him.