Friday, October 26, 2012
In the life is not fair category this week: I attended the funeral of a good friend's baby girl. Two days. She only got to be with her lovely mommy and daddy for two days. So not fair. I can't even describe the awfulness of such a tiny coffin. So beautiful and so so sad. I sat in the service, quietly watching the slideshow of her pictures, feeling the sadness and confusion in the air. How can it be okay for one so small not to make it? How?
Daddy went quietly to the podium and began in a shaky voice to describe his love and his loss and the memories he hopes will one day fill him with joy instead of agony. Although I wanted to just be present for his pain, I was surprised to find my mind traveling back in time for a moment and I saw myself speak at Daniel's funeral.
I didn't cry, and I'm not sure how. I wasn't sure I'd be able to do it and had asked Daniel's cousin to be my understudy in case I choked. Instead of feeling sad, in those moments during the funeral I felt driven. I needed to say how much I loved him, how much I would miss him, and what an amazing man he was. I needed to hear my own voice say it and I needed to know that our friends and family heard me. I felt motivated by I'm not sure what, but I wanted to shout from the rooftops "he was mine, he was wonderful, and now he is gone but never forgotten." When I was done, I wanted to collapse. I wanted to sit by his coffin and cry until they took him away. It was awful.
All of these memories flashed in my mind in the moments that I heard my friend's eulogy for their baby girl. My flashback was over in a blink and I was back with my friends. It was heart breaking. I don't know how they feel exactly. I don't know what compelled him to speak at such a bleak moment. The loss of a child seems so terrible I can't quite grasp it. I see Grayson's face and I go cold. I can't even imagine it. More truthfully, I can imagine it. I try not to, but my mind goes there often. My worry for Grayson is palpable and something I have to manage on a very regular basis.
I know death comes whenever it wants and I pray that death passes over me and mine for a very, very long time. I know I can't control it. The march reminds me I can't control it. Life can be so painfully short. The march reminds me to hug tight those I love and cherish every day.