At 20 years old I can admit that I don’t fully understand death. I look at photos of my dog and question how it is possible that I will never see her again. It seems silly to compare all of this to an animal, but she was the first loss I ever encountered, and even at that I was 19. Since then I have lost something even greater, my dearest grandmother, the sweetest woman on the planet. And in that time I have come to face a lot of life’s realities that I have never been exposed to.
I am lucky in a sense since in all of my years that is it, but because of that I am not nearly accustomed to it, nor do I understand it.
I’ve gone my entire life without knowing this side of life.
My dearest puppy will never beg at my feet again for cheese at lunch time, or sit at my feet while I watch TV. I will never again hear her specific bark or the sound of her dog tags jingling as she runs in the yard.
I will never hear my grandmother’s voice singing happy birthday to me as she did every year. I will feel her warm embrace. I won’t ever see her smile or sing christmas carols joyfully. I will never sit across from her playing card games, I rarely won but I learned so much.
How does that work? How does any of this work?
These things mark us. They stand with us forever. These are the moments that really shape us, and that will stay with us forever.
I remember exactly where I was when I learned when my dog passed. I was leaving the cafe after breakfast and after my mom called I wound up in my best friend’s room then baked cookies and cinnamon rolls and filled that empty part of me with food.
I remember my father calling me when I was in class, complaining to a friend that he knew my schedule why would he call me then, my friend suggested something may be wrong. Then I knew. I left class early and called him. I was right. I cried outside the school of business building before asking my boyfriend to pick me up. He offered to take me home, and that’s what I needed most.
I go on my day, most days, feeling fine. But then a scent, a sound, a picture jogs my memory and I don’t understand. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to handle myself. I don’t know how to feel. We are just supposed to march on, continue.
None of that makes sense. We are just supposed to carry on with life as is we aren’t feeling like we are missing something, someone, in our life? That is a not a reality that I want to accept as true.
At 20 years old I can admit that I don’t understand any of this.
But then again, is anyone supposed to?
