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?

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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