Death. The impending doom for all of us. Sometimes it takes us by surprise, and sometimes after years of wearing down on us with pain and sadness preceding it. Sometimes it takes our babies, who barely had a chance to open their eyes and experience the love in their mother's touch, and sometimes our grandmas, who have given 80-some years of love and compassion to everyone they encountered. No matter who it takes, it leaves a storm of sadness in its wake.
I've always experienced death in a way maybe strange, or maybe not. One would never refer to me as a religious person. I don't believe in a Heaven on the clouds where we frolic in happiness for all of eternity. But, I do believe in the constant energy flow within the universe. You all know the first law of thermodynamics, in simple terms: energy cannot be created nor destroyed, but can only be converted from one form to another. Quite frankly, I think this is a beautiful concept because it truly ties us all to the universe in a grandiose way. We will always exist in some form or another, and we have always existed. And each of us are and are becoming quite the melting pot of energies within the vessels of our bodies.
This makes death mysterious to me because... yesterday, a person was here in our lives... and today, a person is gone. It makes me sad for the people closest to the deceased because they have to condition themselves to a lifestyle that no longer involves phone calls and dinner dates with that person. They end up with huge holes in their hearts. In most cases, I am not sad for the deceased because, well, they are dead. If they suffered, they are no longer suffering. They are now the rainbows that smile through the rainstorms, and the flower buds waiting to bloom so beautifully in summer. And, maybe, just maybe, there is a little part of that person in their newborn nephew's smile.
Back to the man mentioned at the start of this post. This is the first time I've thought about death in depth as suicide has been the cause. And, though it holds that my sadness is retained for the family, I am sad to think of a friend feeling so very, very alone that he went to such extremes. This is where my traditional thoughts about not feeling sad FOR the deceased has been conflicting to me. Because, I really am sad that life get to him so badly that its end was the only way he could think of to make it better. He was a brilliant and talented guy, and an amazing ultimate frisbee player who was just nice. Just really, really nice. And, just like I would feel sad knowing that any of my friends was in a bad emotional state, I feel sad learning how extreme his was.
Alas, it seems that it all still holds. He is not sad or hurt or down anymore, but he certainly has left a hole in the lives of so many who surrounded him. And it's going to take a long time for those people to stop blaming themselves and pick up and move forward. So, to the friends and family of our beloved Dish, I am terribly sorry for the loss of your son, brother, coach, mentor, or friend.
Death is so hard to wrap your mind around. And, whether your believe in Heaven or a universal energy or just a vast nothingness, it doesn't change the idea that you never imagined a world without the physical presence of someone you've known or loved.
James Taylor wrote a song about a friend of his who committed suicide, but it doesn't matter how or when or why she died, his lyrics are brilliant and simple:
I've seen fire and I've seen rain
I've seen sunny days that I thought would never end
I've seen lonely times when I could not find a friend
But I always thought that I'd see you again
