You are here

It won't go away and it shouldn't

Why do people comfort grieving people by telling them that it will go away?

I’d like to tell them to revel in the actual glory of how large one life can be that it rips a piece out of you, that we create some sort of spatial vaccuum where life refuses to relinquish us. That each life is incredibly earth shatteringly meaningful. That the feeling of insignificance we all feel is lie.

It’s just unnoticed most of the time because it isn’t in focus because there’s so much else you have to experience while you live, that ocassionally you forget the most important parts. And now you remember. You get to feel to some small degree how much that person loved you, because for a moment you have to experience the whole of the bond by yourself. You are loved. More than you know, more than anyone knows. You get to know just how much you can love someone. It’s pain because it can’t fit in any of our ordinary spaces.

Your heart has to break. You won’t fully repair because you aren’t a robot. You’ll get bigger. You’ll love more because eventually if you let it all starts adding up. And each thing you lose leaves it’s mark, the tattoes and the scars. And you get to die old and shriveled because there isn’t any other place left to show your love and how much time you spent basking in the sun or crying in your room.

Death is a tragedy because no one is replaceable. Because it’s fucking sad that we don’t get to keep the things we are given. You don’t have to be a rockstar or write a great novel or defeat an alien invasion. You’re someone’s friend. I guarantee you they miss more than they thought they would, even if you aren’t dead, you’re just off the map discovering new countries, breaking your heart in different places.

You only get to share your life with so many people. I have been lucky. I’ve gotten to call a lot of people my best friend. a few to call enemies. None of them feel like a mistake. I don’t want to steal any time back.

I’ve only lost a few important people in my life, some to death, some to the necessities that keep good people apart. Each time it happens it feels like a thousand pound anvil sinks through my gut and tries to drag me down to the center of the earth. And I climb back, grasping at the linked chains, until I have the chance to fall again, each time a little more weight from all the things you have to be letting go.

Whoever you lost were lucky to have you. I’m lucky to have you. We’re all lucky. Because we lose people and one day get lost and we manage to get totally lost in moments where we forget it. I love seeing how time touches your skin. Knowing that we were children together and I wrote some of those lines in your face. We’re all important. When you die the world will be shaken to it’s core and will never be the same.

People say funerals should be celebrations.  I think they should be somewhat dour affairs. Because it is sad you aren’t here anymore. Because there really isn’t anyone like my friends. And the only reason I know they're incredible is because I got to spend alot of my life getting to know them. I expect you're worthy of similar attention.

The pain won’t go away. It’s the weight of all that pleasure. Of all that time when you opened up and connected and allowed people a good chance to break your heart and they were kind enough to do so.

Remember it and stay around for as long as possible. So that when you die worlds burn and hearts break and we all feel a little more.