Let's talk about DEATH.

I went to a couple's game night tonight as a single. Yeah, that'll go ahead and be what I preface this with - blarg. I guess my own feelings colored the evening - I felt misunderstood in my humor and thought that if my husband had been there, I could have played off of his jokes (everyone always loves him.) But he wasn't, and that is pitiful thinking and probably [hopefully] mostly paranoia. Yeah. So anyway. Amidst our gaming, my mother-in-law, Janiece, got a call about her aunt going to the hospital. Her aunt has, I believe, pulmonary fibrosis. If it's not that, I know that it is some other more or less fatal lung condition that isn't cancer. I know I sound hardened in my description, but I am truly just trying to narrow it down for you. Janiece was visibly upset by this, and of course, we shut things down with the gathering. She had to go get her dad, who has Alzheimer's, from the hospital, as it is he was likely to be very uncomfortable there in a strange place, and since it is his wife's sister who is being hospitalized, his wife, Janiece's mother, wasn't in a position to take him home herself. We all split accordingly.

I'm home now and have just gotten off the phone to Joe who is understandably upset. My only real point of reference is my grandmother, Oma, and her death that occurred last year. I really have no words - nothing to comfort others. Whether it's been a long time coming or not, I don't know if anyone is truly ready for a loved one to leave this earth. My grandmother's death was unexpected; she was killed in an interstate car wreck last October. In the hospital, I opted not to see her body after she had died because I was told it was horrific and would alter the way I remember her. I am crying as I write this because I can tell you I go back to that day often. I go over all the aspects of the wreck in my mind frequently and keep thinking that she shouldn't have died. I miss her everyday, and though it has been over nine months since her death, I cry for her almost regularly. Often it is out of the blue, and it's as though I've been kicked in the stomach as I am flooded with wonderful memories, yet overwhelmed with the reminder that my grandmother is no longer here. Her life has stopped. Joe knows I get upset, and he has been around for it on a few occasions. It's nice to have someone present to get me past the spells, but for the most part I go through them alone. A lot of the times they're at night before I go to sleep. I've noticed that I go in waves - just as I think I'm getting better with it for a few months, I'm back to crying almost in sobs. It never ends.

Because of the Army, Joe couldn't be there for Oma's funeral. I can't verbalize it properly, but my love for my grandmother and Joe's absence at her send-off, as well as the surrounding dates/time/activities, has had an effect on me. He wasn't there when we went and got Oma's stuff out of her smashed up car. It was Ari, Gene, and me. It was our way of having closure without being able to see Oma one last time - instead, we saw how she died - the impact from the tractor trailer to the driver's side and the blood that spilled down the side of the center console and under the passenger's seat. Joe wasn't there when we looked through Oma's house, and me asking my mother not to touch anything - leave her half a cup of coffee where it was, her shoes by her chair, etc. He wasn't there when we walked across Oma's front yard to Arielle's car (Arielle was in front, and then Gene, and finally me), and when I let out a sob that I'd been trying to suppress since walking through the house, he wasn't there when Gene heard me and turned around, grabbed me and hugged me hard while I cried. I'll never forget that, and I know I love Gene a little more because of it.

I know it's selfish, but there's something about all this that is keeping me from being able to comfort Joe. I'm sure part of it is my own inability to handle personal grief, as well as my unstable Faith. I guess just as I feel closer to Gene in the way in which he was physically and emotionally available to me during the aftermath of Oma's death, I feel distant from Joe.

With all of that said, there are a few things I'm sure of: Being devastated by a loss of someone close to you usually indicates some redeeming qualities on the part of that person for which you allowed them to be a part of your life in such an intimate way. It is my opinion that the way in which to truly honor that person and your feelings for them, is to begin giving to the rest of the world what they gave to you.

I guess that's really all I have to say.