Death

My husband and I attended a funeral today. For an aunt of my mom's. She was very ill, and died at the respectable age of 86. The service was lovely. The pastor said comforting things, and the general feeling was one of peace, and even happiness of her being released from her earthly bondage of pain and suffering. Even her husband said to us that he was at peace that she had gone - she was so ready to go, he said.

I'm not afraid of my own death. In fact, I mostly welcome it (going home to God). It is the death of loved ones, and leaving loved ones behind when I go that I fear the most. I spent most of the funeral buried (oh what a bad pun) in my own thoughts. As I held my husband's hand, I tried to imagine what it would be like if he died. I'm not sure I would survive. I don't think I would ever be the same again. I would probably move back home, and stay in bed for months and mourn and cry and wish I was dead. No friends or family would be able to comfort me, I would feel abandoned and isolated and raw and alone. Life would loose its meaning completely for me.

My husband says that when someone close to you dies, you feel things you have never felt before. You feel as though you are on another planet to everyone else that is just carrying on with their lives as normal. Life stands still in your bubble. I sometimes have this thought that at this very moment someone is experiencing their darkest hour. Someone's husband/wife/child/parent/sibling/friend has just died and they are in ruin and indescribable pain and suffering. Someone's world has just collapsed around them.

I am so lucky to only have experienced "natural" deaths so far in my life. I mean, grandparents dying at good mature ages. Not that these weren't sad, but they were more peaceful (long lives lived and now home with God).

No one close to me has been violently ripped from this life by car crashes, unexpected illnesses, or at the hand of another human. I am terribly thankful for this, but at the same time, a small part of me feels very much out of my depth. Somewhere in the future, I will be dealing with people who are grieving and will have had death thrust upon them unceremoniously and unexpectedly. What right do I have to penetrate their circle of despair and distress if I cannot identify them? How can I claim to want to comfort them when I have no idea what they are going through? It's the whole wounded healer idea, except I am not really all that wounded...