Death is a subject that hasn't really had much meaning to me until the more recent years. When I was young I remember the first person that died was my GG, great grandmother. I think I knew what it meant at the time, and I remember wanting to go to the funeral, but I wasn't allowed. So I was curious about what exactly went on at funerals, I had seen them in films, but I hadn't experienced one.
Until later on my Aunt May, who is an old girlfriend of my grandfather, but is pretty much family at this point, lost her husband Erwin. I don't ever remember meeting him, but I ended up visiting my grandparents while his funeral was taking place. I can't remember what happened exactly, but I remember there being a 'forbidden room' that was allocated for the family to go and cry. After the service was over, grandma and granddad took me outside because they said it was time for the viewing where the casket was to be opened and only close family was allowed. I an adolescent at the time and I wanted to see a dead body! I still didn't understand what it felt like to lose someone and to me it was just a fascinating opportunity, but I did what they told me followed them out.
Then over my teenage years my great uncle died, a coworker of mine and another of my brother's, people I knew, but I didn't see often. This was when I started to experience the sadness that came with death.
Now as an 'adult' or young adult, my uncle and my cousin died in a plane crash last year and I experienced the devastation of death. I couldn't move or breath when I found out. It was a similar experience to after I had been mugged when I was 17 and had first moved to Montreal for my studies.
Later in the year last year I was driving home from work with my boyfriend at the time and we were the first two people to come across a man who had flipped his car and died. I will never be able to rid myself of the image of him hanging out the window of the flipped car and his life slipping away before my very eyes. It seemed such an intimate moment for me to be witnessing of a stranger. Who am I to be there for the moment of his death? I've not even been to more than one funeral and I wasn't allowed to see the dead body. It was the first dead person I saw. Again it made me frozen and unable to speak or breath. All I could do was stand and stare while my boyfriend called the police. I was afraid to be alone for at least a week. All the fears I had when I was a child about monsters under the bed and darkness and just plain irrational thoughts overflowed my mind. Eventually enough time passed that I thought I got over it.
Why do people cover their mouths when they look at something terrible? I have to say that is what I did.
More recently I've dealt with the death of my boss, where I worked at the wake and watched how the relatives and close friends of this man I had never met dealt with his death. I went out the back for a snack and encountered Mark's brother-in-law who was losing it because of a song that came on the record player and went to go hide away. Who am I to witness this man in his grief?
It is allowing me to learn what to say, which is generally nothing, and to be more comfortable in the wake of death. Since Mark, two other coworkers have lost family and friends. It's a death party right now. I'm wondering to myself if there is a death epidemic or if this is just life. Just a part of life that seemed mysterious and hidden and now that I live in the 'real world', it is everywhere.
The last death that made me need to write this, was a 4 year old boy. There's a school next to my house and a boy ran in front of a car and died last Friday. It looked just like when I came across the accident in Ontario, the road blocked off, police taking photos, people crowding round and staring, flashing lights. Thankfully, this time I was on the outside of the police tape. It really made me sad when I saw the little boy's shoes still lying in the road.
Those thoughts and feelings from the Ontario accident came rushing back that night, and I had a hard time sleeping and a hard time snapping out of a weird disconnected state of mind. Little kids aren't supposed to run in front of cars, that only happens in movies, and in movies they always stop just in time.
One thing that gives me a bit of perspective was listening to my friend Danika describe what it was like to witness the earthquake in Haiti. There were so many dead bodies that you didn't even notice anymore. They were no longer people.
Death is a cultural construct. From how we express ourselves about it, how we celebrate it, how we mourn. It is something that I wish I had more exposure to at a young age. Not exposure in that I wish more people died, but I wish it was talked about more freely, in front of me, with me, around me. Demystifying it, making it less of a secret.
Who knows?
I'a one of the most important things to do is to talk about it with someone, writing it here is good as well. Make sure you realize that you are not alone with these feelings, it is not normal to see death so up close and to watch the last breaths is not something that many people experience. remember to acknowledge that it is a traumatic experience but it is important to remember that life has many pleasant times as well. I'a there are many people all over this wonderful planet that love you and that you love, think of them often!
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