I was scouring my brain to think of things to do my first few posts on, aside from talking about me. My biography can wait. I was trying to avoid the topic of death, but that seems to be one of the few things I know quite a bit about. Death and I are drinking buddies (and those are always interesting dreams, to be honest.) And with a couple happening recently, I've been thinking about it a lot. Not that I don't ponder it often anyways, what with occassionally having suicidal tendancies in some form, or just general pondering of what comes next.
I attended my first funeral at the age of 5 or 6. I barely remember it, so most of this was related to me later by my mom. It was no one I knew - a high school teacher of my mother's. This was a learning/teaching opportunity for my mother and I, not a really mournful event. Before the funeral my mother explained to me what the correct behaviour was, and that failure to behave in such a way would result in me sitting in the car by myself until the event was over, and quite the spanking back at grandma's when it was over. It went over without a hitch for the most part. I don't recall having a huge understanding of what was going on, who these people were, why they were crying.
My dad's adoptive mother died when I was 8 (And yes, I did just say it right out on the internet that my father is adopted ooOOoo. All his other siblings talk about it, it's not something to be ashamed of *rolls eyes*) Once again, I don't remember much. Mom told me to not run around the graveyard no matter how much my little cousin bugged; I remember the casket was blue, perhaps with a flower pattern? (I've had dreams/nightmares involving that casket); standing at the graveside wondering if it was over yet; having french vanilla ice cream at the luncheon after; my parents searching all over the city to find out what kind of roses to use for putting on the casket at the graveyard. None of it made sense really. I do know I was kind of in the dark about the whole thing, mainly something that was getting under foot more than anything.
I believe age 8 is about when my neighbour Harold died of cancer, but I don't really remember that either - just that the day my parents tried to tell me for some unexplainable reason I sat on the couch crying and refused to talk to them when they tried to tell me. I also remember the day of, not understanding why there was no body, and being utterly terrified of having to go watch the body be cremated (Apparently this is what they did in Australia, as told by my mother, who was told this by my exchange teacher at the time when I had some issues with it at school.) I also think I was wearing a hot pink dress (probably the last time I wore pink lol) and I remember going for a walk through the cemetary with Harold's son-in-law and grandson.
Somewhere around age 12 I believe, my (used to be) best friend's mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. She died suddenly near the end of the season, and my best friend decided she hated me because we had a wedding the weekend after her mother died and we weren't at the campground. She left me a rather scathing note, and pretty much never spoke to me again. We tried, but at that point we were both changing too much.
Age 13, grade 9, my maternal grandma died. No one realized what this death was about to start. Grandma's funeral meant new clothes, family drama, being subjected to what seemed like hundreds of people I didn't know attempting to hug me (yes, that went over so well it was put to the funeral director to find me somewhere private so I could sit and read so that there wasn't a second funeral of some poor well meaning person.) I think this was also where my dislike of ministers really started. You're right, I don't HAVE to be the rock of support for anyone and pretend I don't have emotions. However, I AM the rock of support for everyone, and really, I don't have emotions, so shut up and give the grief counselling to the person who wants it.
In the 3 months after my grandma died the death total was at 5. I think that year we averaged out at about 11. For the next 4 years, this was the pattern. 5 deaths in 3 months, averaging 10 or 11 a year. It's tapered off in the 6 years since grade 9 however. My grandmas (paternal and maternal), my mom's best friend and a woman I regarded as something akin to a second mother, a neighbour, some other relatives, a few guys from school, an uncle, an aunt... It's so hard to remember seeing as how the death count since grade nine currently sits at al most 60. Methods of death? Pretty much everything - old age, serious illnesses people don't dream of (cancer, hepititis C), car accidents, other accidents, suicide, perhaps even a homidicde, miscarriage/stillborn...
So really, when I seem kind of cold and heartless about death... I'm better than a Hallmark card, okay? Trust me, I used to work there, I've seen what they got, it's not impressive really (Carlton Cards seems to have a better selection if you're looking lol) and I've spent many a time pouring over the selection with customers looking for the perfect card and being completely understanding in how none seem right. I have personally (and unfortunately recently) stood in a store absolutely FUMING with anger because the "loss of child" cards are so emotionless and insensitive, and have finally found something that works, and walked away before I started bawling when I tried to keep looking for others. I understand death is difficult to deal with, and they have to cover a wide range of people, but seriously, some are just "What the hell were they thinking?!?!" inducing. So really, if you're card shopping, and can't find anything suitable - go with a blank card, or a "thinking of you" type that isn't really death related and write your own thing from the heart in it.
Other than that, this post really had no direction, but I guess I will have my little bitchfest about death now...
I know it hurts. I've been there. A lot. Look at the body count above. But seriously - get over it. Sounds cruel, sound callous or whatever, but it's true. These people who throw their lives away once someone dies.. ugh. When my uncle died, my aunt refused to give back any of the photos other people had contributed for the photo boards. Her reasoning? "Well he wasn't YOUR husband! What do YOU need pictures for?!" Then again... this is from the same family where the daughter hosts a birthday party for him every year (first year after, fine. A couple after if you have a child that was small when the person died and they're just understanding death now, and you wanna do it again fine. But EVERY year makes you look crazy.) My aunt still kind of refuses to go to family events or whatever because she'll "be all alone with no one to talk to." This is not how you deal with death. Srsly. Get over it. The sooner you accept it and deal with it, the easier it is. I think... I dunno. My thing is typically 2 days and I'm done. Or at least I tell myself I am. Getting over it doesn't mean you're never sad again if you think about this person, but it means you've accepted it, and you can remember the good, and not be all "Oh woe is me, ____ has died and my life has no direction and I'm so lost and want to die because I don't have them." SO STOP FUCKING YELLING AT ME AND BITING MY HEAD OFF WHEN I SAY GET OVER IT! Also, stop fucking telling me I'm too young to know anything about death. You people make me want to kill you (and that would show you aaaallll I know about death and much, much more. Rage. I haz it.)
This got really long, so I think I shall call this the end. For now. And I hope Lir remembers it's his turn to buy next time. And every time after this. He makes enough, it's the least he can do -_-
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