I just returned from my Great Grandmothers funeral and I've done so with a little perspective. I think most would assume that burying a family member would naturally make one realize that there are other things in the world besides their problems, but something different happened with me...
During the proceedings, I began reading the headstones that surrounded us. Not the names, but rather the dates on the head stones. I found myself stuck on one grave in particular. A man who had died at age 22, the same age I am now.
My immediate reaction was, "god, that poor kid. He never got to experience life at all", then I returned to the thoughts I had on the way there and how I regrettably thought things would be better if the car was on it's way to my own funeral. This brought on a sudden flow of thoughts, many of which I can't even compose into sentences.
I thought about how I still have so much life left to live, but that it didn't matter because I had already had everything in life that I ever needed. I thought about the similarities between my love life and a funeral. When it's still alive, you take for granted that it's there. Yes you love and appreciate what you have, but you fail to realize that it really is a gift. That it will one day pass. And it could do so at any time.
When we bury a love one (actually or metaphorically), there is nothing you can do to bring them back. They are gone. The only thing you can do is live. Keep yourself going every day and never forget that person you love so much. All you can do is hope that someday... somehow... you will be reunited.
Is there a life after death? Is there new beginnings for lost love? Will the flame of my heart rise again from these ashes and burn as it once did? I don't know, only time will tell. All I know is that I must keep living; I must fight on...
posted by Christopher SchneseÂ