Death and... life

This morning I heard about the death of a former co-worker.  He was only 51 years old.  When someone younger than you dies, it's an odd feeling.  You become aware of your mortality more keenly.  As I spoke with a co-worker who was struggling not to cry as she bravely answered my questions, I said to her "I know how you feel"  and I do.  I have been thinking all week of a former co-worker and very close friend who died thirty- two years ago on Monday.  I still miss her.  I remember being at work when we got the call about Laura.  She was twenty two, as was I, and so full of the joy of life that it was overwhelming to think that Death would have the audacity to take her from us.  She had lupus.  I think there are two kinds and one is fatal,.  We buried her, appropriately enough, on Valentine's Day. The church was filled to overflowing, the procession was so large they ran out of the sticker that they give you so you can get through the traffic lights.  Her parents were so calm, comforting us instead of the other way around.  I don't think I would have had the good grace that they had that day.  She was a wonderful person and the world is a less bright place because she is not in it.  I gave my daughter her middle name, Elizabeth, as a middle name; a memory of someone I dearly loved and who would have loved my daughter.

When you lose someone, you want to rail at God or the heavens and scream "WHY"  The heavens rarely answer.  The thing that resonates most with me comes from a poem "Elegy for J.FK."  by W. H. Auden  "What he was, he was.   What he is fated to become depends on us.  Remembering his death, how we choose to live will decide it's meaning"  I know that grief must be obeyed, that certain rituals are comforting and we must observe them in order to regain balance.  Truly living and enjoying life honors those who have passed on.