Evolution

November 13 2016

I have never really liked funerals, but it seems as if the more I go to them the better I get at handling them. I had a friend with brain cancer. She passed away last week. It was hard to go through. It's hard to pretend that you're okay and comfort others. When you do that for too long you go numb.
I held her best friend's hand at the viewing. And when we saw her body, she cried. I continued to hold her hand.

At the end of the funeral the following day, a man who was with the funeral home services walked up and spoke into the microphone. He began to tell a story, which brought confusion to the some of the congregation. He said,
"When my son was about seven years old, my wife and I were already split. But I was able to take him out for his birthday, so I decided to take him out to the driving range. I got him gloves, a club, and a bucket of balls. As we were walking, he was jumping and rejoicing, saying it was going to be the best birthday ever. So I asked him why. My son replied, 'Because you can't break a memory.'"

He left it at that. And even though he was referring to the short 18 years that were ended by brain cancer, the story he told is applicable to anything someone is facing in this life.

I know that I will have bad days. Lately has not been good at all. I have been waking up around 4 every morning because I dreamt of him again, and sometimes I wake up crying, unable to fall back asleep. Sometimes I want to self harm. Sometimes I want to fade into nothing.

But I know that there must be some reason why I am here. So at the viewing I served as a comforter. Because I was needed. I was numb, but full of compassion. I told her that she has angels watching over her. I know I have flaws, but maybe they can be good for something. For the first time in my life, at the viewing, they were.

I am in therapy now. I go about once a week, and it has been helping.

I know that right now I will not be perfect. But I need to accept myself. And right now I feel that in order to accept myself I need to let go.

A huge comfort to me in letting go is knowing that a memory cannot be broken.

So long as we are apart, it will be hard. I will miss him. At this point I wouldn't bet on him coming back. But he will always be in my memory.
But not in my dreams. Because dreams can be broken. You can never hope surely about the future; it is more painful to get your hopes up and have your wishes for your future shatter before your eyes.
But memories live on as long as we do.
That's why I promised him that I would always remember him.