How Death Has Helped Me Live

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Death has changed the way I think about life.

It’s not something I thought about much before my mom’s passing in December 2015. I’d lost my grandfathers from both sides long before then, but they were elderly, so even though I was sad, it was a natural and expected thing (my mom’s dad was 90 and my dad’s was 79), and one of my Dad’s sisters (she was young-ish, but I didn’t know her well, so, that didn’t overly impact me).

But then December 2015 rolls around. While my mom was in hospital, I found out that my dad lost his mom at 36 years old, from cancer (I don’t remember her, I was only 3 when she passed away). Turns out, that would be the same age I was when my mom died from alcoholism at 65.

Here’s how the next few years went. Everything was relatively ‘fine’ with regards to loss anyway, until:

2019 — my dog (aka furbaby son) Bailey crossed the Rainbow Bridge at the ripe old dog age of 15

2020 — my grandma (mom’s mom) died at 95.

2021 — January — my aunt (mom’s sister) passed from cancer after a year or so at 62. June — my uncle (mom’s brother) died suddenly of a massive heart attack at…