I haven't had to deal with death in someone close to me since 1991.
I really pretended that it wasn't ever going to happen to me again. The thing that struck me into writing my thoughts, was that he isn't going to be buried with my grandma. My grandpa is living in Oregon with my step-grandma. Granted - they've been married for many, many years, but that means my grandma will remain buried alone down in Santa Monica.
How is that okay? Our lives are filled with people and loved ones, yet when we are buried, our loved ones create a never ending loneliness for our bodies. Our spirits have moved on, but our bodies live in perpetual loneliness.
The LDS religion discourages cremation because we should have our bodies to come back to with the "second coming." But our bodies are not perfect and in decay, so why would we need to come back to them? The LDS religion also says that I won't be able to see my grandpa again because I don't live the LDS standards and rules. How is that possible?
Why should I have to live a perfect life just to live with my loved ones in the spirit world?
Shouldn't it be enough that I create a relationship with God? One that I have been ignoring, I might add.
I want to see my grandpa again, I want to see Tommy again, I want to meet my Grandma with memory and see my other grandpa too. I want to see this supposed heaven everyone claims is so great. I want to live when I die.
Light bulbs die, I will depart - Mr. Magorium
I keep waiting for my life to start. I keep waiting for the signal that tells me when to start. I keep waiting for something to tell me what to do next. I keep waiting to own my life.
I kept waiting to call my grandpa when I found out he was sick. I kept waiting to send him a note about some things I wanted him to see. I kept waiting for something. I saw him last year with the intent of it being a "good-bye" trip. He was in the hospital then, and I wasn't sure if I'd make it up again. I used that as solace when I first got the call that he was sick. But now I feel guilty for my laziness and lack of priorities. My inability to call him one last time and tell him I love him.
The guilt of my brothers death is creeping around as well. I was so frustrated and angry at my responsibilities of being a big sister the night before he died that I had no patience with him. Tommy's soft, gentle, innocent smile, and I was angry, because having to take care of him was interuppting my un-important teenage life.
So, I'll need to do some soul searching this week as I introduce Samantha to her first funeral and death.
Breather, pulse, regenerate,
