Tuesday, April 9, 2013
Today is the day Cori returns from her adventures in Scotland. But it is also the day I go to be by a friends side while we celebrate the life of her partner in love. It is a heavy-hearted day. It is a beautiful day.
Death is a scary, mysterious thing. The last time I was at a funeral was in 2009 when my grandmother passed. We were in Arlington National Cemetery in Virginia, and there are pictures of my family and I standing around and just thinking about my grandmother. My whole life I've cried from stress, from anger, and happiness. Watching movies where there's a tragic/emotional moment between a father and a daughter sends me over the edge and I well up with water in my eyes. But death... Death kicks into gear something in me I didn't know I had. Strength. Few tears are shed, if any, and I assume the roll of the strong, steady shoulder to cry on. I listen. I watch. I feel. But I never break down like I expect to. So when it came to my grandmother passing, I missed her and hoped she was somewhere out there in the cosmos, in a happier place, but I didn't cry. I wanted to, but the strength to be brave and focus on supporting those around me stopped the tears. It's how I'm wired. It's how I grieve and channel the swirling emotions.
Which brings me to today. When I dress in "jascha style", wrap up my dear friend in my arms and hug her tight, I will have that same strong core I always do when tragedy is in front of me. And I will listen. And I will watch. And I will feel.