Death

Dear Death,

I don’t really get you.


I’ve always thought that we were pretty familiar given the number of funerals I’ve been to and the amount of time we’ve interacted (from afar, of course). I mean, I probably have about half of the Catholic Funeral Mass Liturgy memorized and I think I can still smell the incense from the last one.

But, you prove me wrong time and time again.

It’s almost like you win each time you come around – and leave those of us left standing in this horrible state of shock. As if it is a surprise that you came around. Again.

And then there’s the fact that you’re so complicated. At face value, it would seem that you’re bad. You know: separating loved ones; coming unexpectedly, often painfully. But then, some people – Christians especially – might view you as good. Putting an end to physical suffering; no more pain that this broken world brings; bringing people closer to the presence of God. Really though, I think that you’re just complicated. Now, I sort of feel guilty saying this because I think that I should look at you without fear or uncertainty, and I’m sure some Christians would chastise me for thinking what I do, but I’m just being honest here. I mean, who really knows what you’re all about? (besides God) When someone meets you do they immediately head one way or the other? You know what I mean ... up or down. What’s judgment all about? Some people are dealt a pretty crappy hand - is that taken into account when tallying up wrongdoings vs. acts of kindness? I’ve heard that there might be some sort of waiting period – a holding cell, if you will. How’s that work? Is it lonely there? Cold? Dark?

Oh, and what is up with the Sheol business?

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

So, you've come around again and brought with you this rush of mixed emotions. Shock, sadness, fear, confusion, guilt, discomfort.

But probably most of all, like a slap in the face, you force me to face my own mortality and cling to the hard-to-believe still-don't-get-it hope that you’re not the end.

With love for Aunt Cindy,
Julie

Grumpy

Dear Grumpy, Bad Mood, Case of the Grumps,

Why hello, so not nice to see you today.  I shouldn’t be surprised given the rather gloomy weather and that dirty word keeps coming up in ominous conversations *snow*.

Blech.

Makes me want to wash my mouth out with soap.

I would MUCH rather be sitting on my comfy couch with sweatpants and a warm latte instead of underneath these harsh fluorescent lights staring at a computer screen, trying to put on a cheery face and pretend like you don’t exist.  And can I just ask why it is that self-entitled jerkfaces always seem to show up on days that you’re here too?  Did you call each other and decide to meet up for some fun wherever Julie is?  Real mature.

One thing I do appreciate about you is that I’m a little quieter whenever you come around.  Not just less-word-quieter, but quieter in my soul.  Deep-thinker-quieter.  Contemplative, if you will.

So, here I am on this dreary day, a little gloomy and more introspective that usual.  Wondering why evil happens.  Where Kyle and I will be in a year or five.  Wondering when and if we’ll have kids and if they’ll somehow make it into being Jesus-loving, semi-well adjusted adults despite this dysfunctional world and their dysfunctional parents.  Wondering how to really be a Jesus-follower in a capitalist society.  Wondering which battles to fight and which ones to endure. 

Wondering how I got here.

Wondering what the 10 year old wanna-be-a-Olympic-runner Julie would think of me now.  Or what the high school wanna-tell-everyone-about-Jesus Julie would think. Or what the academic wanna-fill-my-mind-with-every-possible-nugget-of-information-so-that-it-might-change-my-heart college age Julie would think. 

It's days like this when you come to visit that I fear the answers to those questions, and that other unwanted friend creeps in, regret. I worry that I'm wasting my time.  Spending an hour on the road commuting each day. At work. Trying to affirm people's humanity, while questioning my own. At home. Failing miserably a lot of the time at this thing called marriage. Barely knowing who lives 25 feet away on our street. Trying to love kids at church, but watching them choose teasing and fighting over caring.  Wanting to desperately connect with friends, but feeling often excluded and generally unknown.  

I'm tempted to try and end this letter with some sort of positive spin - you know, something somewhat spiritual and, of course true.  But, given the recipient of this letter, I'm going to refrain and allow myself to be in these thoughts for now.  

I'm feeling it and feeling it well.

See you (hopefully not too) soon,

Newly-married-working-adult Julie