Remembering our departed
Over the past two weeks I’ve dealt with the loss of two people: one on an impersonal level and one on an almost personal level. I actually didn’t get to know these two people but their passing has had a resonating effect in my life — and in many others’ as well. Even though it may seem frivolous, I am in mourning for these two people. This article is not intended to focus on them however. Instead, I want to use it as a stepping stone toward something else I want to try and understand: what death means and what can we learn from those departed.
Mostly, we all deal with death in a similar manner. We cry. We feel despair. We stare into oblivion in a state of shock, a sense that we’ve lost our bearing hanging over us, unsure of what to do next. Everything loses its taste and meaning. Nothing in the world matters. We are anesthetized.
Time ameliorates the pain which at the moment feels eternal. Others who share our pain constantly remind us that these feelings are perfectly acceptable, but we must eventually move on.
And that’s the problem. How do we move on? We try to fill the void left by our loved ones, trying to figure out why they aren’t with us. We accuse them of abandoning us, leaving us way to soon. Distraction seems to be the obvious course of action — and it works. But we find ourselves constantly working our way back to our initial question: why us? Why does it hurt? Why must we hurt?
Hurting is part of the healing process. Then again, true healing doesn’t come by constant hurting, and won’t come until we can accept what has happened and endeavor to move on.
Healing comes from laughing; learning that those departed (would) want us to keep laughing and smiling again. They would want us to remember them by enjoying and enacting what they themselves enjoyed. We honor our dead by keeping them close to us; remembering how they felt, even about their tiniest and most insignificant pet peeves. Their reactions to small victories and grandiose blunders. We take care that every decision we make is one we think they would be proud of, and make sure that the ones they wouldn’t agree with are ones they would ultimately be at peace with.
Like many events that surround us, death is part of a grander scheme. The only true answer to death is that we must not feel sorrow at the loss of a life lived to its fullest.
My belief is that life, in all its apparent randomness, actually tries to mold us to our highest potential. We don’t decide who comes into our lives but we do decide who gets to be a part of it. This decision comes from a sense of knowing who will have a greater influence on us, who will teach us the most. Granted, not all is for the better, but we believe that it may be. Life offers us choices and we take them.
Our supporting cast is constantly rotating coming and going as we or somebody else seems fit — or as life deems fit. Death, being a part of life, is just a way saying: “Hey, this person has done everything they could by you. They’ve taught you everything they think you might need to know.” Just like that, they’re gone from us; taken away so that it falls on us to employ what we have learned from them.
What is the best way to remember our dead? What is the best way to honor their memory and the things they’ve imparted on us?
The best example I can currently think of is José Fernandez. He loved baseball. He loved it with a passion never before seen. Celebrated the little things and was constantly called out for it. Did he care? He cared enough that he was elated during a benches clearing event after admiring a home run he hit.
The best memory I’ll have from him — to show how much he loved baseball — was this one: Fernandez celebrating a Giancarlo Stanton home run in a game in which they were losing, and eventually lost.
This is what I want to remember José by. What many people who were touched by him will remember him by. His memory will be honored by enjoying the small things in life, and celebrating everything with the enthusiasm of a child. His legacy is sure to live on in every small celebration enjoyed with the same enthusiasm he had.
Neither of the two deaths I have mourned over the past two weeks have affected me directly. They have, however, affected my loved ones and the things I love. And though we’ve all shared in the mourning, we will also share in the healing. Soon it will be time to share what we have learned from them and honor them through our actions.
