Lately it seems like the sadness is relentless, crushing. So many loved ones passing, so many illnesses, disasters, catastrophes, so much coming to an end. The other day I read a post from a suicidal, abused teenaged girl. She wrote her truth so brave, so fierce, my heart broke for her. Seems like my heart breaks every day these days.
Part of it has to come from the news we just bathe in now. Back in the day, it was possible to miss out on hearing about a tragedy, but the algorithm sure as hell won’t let that happen any more. There’s a reason they call it a feed — we gorge on misery 24/7.
But part of it has to be perspective. I was at a memorial service with my Dad — I think it was for Uncle Paul, but it might have been Mom’s, there’s just been so many. Anyway, Dad was looking at a picture, of him and his mother and my brother, and with melodramatic flair he announced, “I guess I’m the only one left from this picture.” The self pity irritated me, so I snapped, “Well if you live long enough, that’ll be true of all the pictures you’re in.”
I always regret when I allow myself to get irritated with Dad, but sometimes truth comes out of it. I started thinking, the only way to avoid the feeling of being the last one left in a picture is to not be in any pictures. Having family, friends, willingly engaging with the world, it makes you vulnerable to loss.
As a culture, we shun death. We fear it, avoid it, try to obliterate it with health obsessions and hospitals. That’s cheating. You don’t get to have the love and the friends and the good times without the hard times too. They are one and the same.
Earlier today, I wrote I was sad to learn of Sara Romweber’s death. I take that back. I’m not sad about it. I’m thankful that I get to live a life where I can learn people like Sara exist, where I have to appreciate them right now, because they might not be here later. I’m thankful I got to see Sara lay down a beat just one time, one beautiful, ecstatic night of rock n roll. I’m thankful I get to participate in this mad moment we call the twenty first century, where all the information is available to us, and the challenge is to manage that embarrassment of riches.
All these moments shine in my mind like a chest full of jewels, but they only shine because the edges define them. A good story needs a beginning, middle, and end. Don’t short change the ending — it’s the best part of the story.
Death and darkness are half of life. When we turn away from them, out of fear, we fail to fully live. I am slowing learning to love death and sadness, just like you love family. I accept them for what they are, I sit with them in silence, I draw strength from their constancy.
Some day, I will only be in the picture, instead of looking at it. When you look at my picture, I want you to know: I tried really hard to live well.
Love is always the right answer.