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Just a Container
When a loved one dies, you’ve lost their physical presence but not their impact on your life.
I come from a small family. I had just one aunt, one uncle, and six first cousins, none of whom I’m in touch with. Because my father was in the military and we moved frequently, I rarely saw my relatives. One consequence of growing up in such a small and geographically distributed family is that we had little experience with death. When my grandparents, aunt, and uncle died, I was thousands of miles away. I never had to deal with the death of a close relative until my father died when I was 51.
In stark contrast, my wife comes from a huge extended family. Each of Chris’s parents was one of 10 children. Most of their descendants still live within a few miles of where they were born. With a family that large, you get exposed to sickness, old age, death, and funerals from early childhood. It’s just part of what people and families go through. Before meeting Chris, I had never attended a wake and viewed a body in an open casket. I was in my 40s before I attended a funeral. Obviously, my experience reflects an extreme insulation from the realities of life’s end.
About 20 years ago, Chris’s father passed away. Zeke was a cool guy with many, many friends. He was much beloved in the community where he had lived his…
