I went to my first funeral last weekend. It was with Edmond. One of his childhood best friends past away. And the problem is, I don't know how to relate to it all. No one whom I have been close to has died. Oh sure, I've had relatives, my great grandpa for instance but, I was to young to have it emotionally affect me. All I knew then was that it made my mom really sad and she flew way across the country for the event and that I was left behind with my Dad and sister. Then, I think I went to a funeral later on? But, as you can tell, I don't remember it. So, as you can see, I and death haven't really become acquainted. This reality of life has entered upon my stage in any significant act.
Perhaps, I look upon death as an event that happens to someone else. Or, that when death happens it is a welcome release to its recipient. For many years I have often thought about what it would feel like if someone in my immediate family died. How would I feel? How would I cope? How would those around me handle the tragedy? Could, and would, I stand strong to help them through? Or would I retreat, closing myself in with my own thoughts and grief? Yes, these are questions I have asked myself.
I remember distinctly one night when I was around 15 lying in my bed trying to imagine how I would feel if my father died. I imagined it so vividly and intimately that I started crying and scared myself so well that I had to go to my parents door way to make sure he was alive. I can still feel that moment; remember the feel of the bed that I lay in, the floor I walked on, hearing my father breath, the coldness of the house in the middle of the night, it's still as alive as it was eight years ago.
I know, you are probably thinking I'm morbid however, there was something inside of me that needed to feel that. Something that called to me to become acquainted with possible loss. Now looking back I realize that that need stemmed from multiple things: lack of an emotional mother figure, habits in my life that caused intense feelings of shame, depression and mania from the Bipolar and my gift in having a higher sensitivity to my emotional environment. However, which ever the cause it has also caused me to have a curiosity of death and the emotions it brings. How does the life of one change? What is their reality after?
Reality is so subjective. My reality is entirely different then yours. Ok, you may be protesting at my use of the word "reality", preferring rather perspective, paradigm shift or uuuh, just change of mind perhaps. And yes, I can see your argument, when discussing psychotic behaviors we use the term "altered state of reality" . However, who is to define reality?! Yes, there are certain elemental facts about life that are unmistakable truths: the sky is blue, the grass is green, a human has a brain, two eyes, one mouth, a nose, arms and legs. (And hopefully a heart) But, beyond these, who are we to argue with someone else's view upon reality. Their reality. Ok, I'm getting off topic, I think I've made my point in it's essence and also in the process decided that perhaps for the sake of clarification and respect to "the reality" of most, I will use the word "perspective". Ok, I'll admit it, I convinced my self of using the other words because of how the word "reality" is currently used and defined. How do you like that, you didn't utter a word and I was persuaded differently. *ironic chuckle*
So, to rephrase the question: what is their perspective after? How has their paradigm shifted?
I have only just discovered that I have always had an innate curiosity in understanding how people think and feel. It's so fascinating to me to think that while I may be feeling intense happiness or even sadness towards a specific event or person another may come along who experiences quite the opposite. And to this I ask: Why? What changed and caused their difference in perspective? How do they react to knowing they have such a different way of looking at something? Do they know where they get that perspective from? Do they care? Oh, there are a hundred more questions to be asked but, all with the basic intent of: "Why did this person do what they did just now?"
Ok, say you've answered that question and have "come to a pretty clear concept about that person"; then that person experiences incredible loss: the death of one of their best friends. Now, how has life changed for that person? How do they see their friends, their family, themselves afterwards? Do they want to be around people? Can they talk about it? Are they able to talk about it? Do they want to talk about it? How can you help them? How can I help him?
I've only know Edmond for a little over four months now. He likes to say it's longer but, our concepts of "knowing" are a little different. His definition appears to be more; "knowing the existence of" the other person. Mine: a little more particular. I feel that we have only known each other for about three and half months because that's when we actually started talking. That's when I was able to start forming my perspective of him. Of which I could completely diverge from the topic at hand to discuss all of the awesome things I keep discovering about him but… I'd never actually finish this article and I'd really like to do so. I'll focus on the other a little later. *dreamy smile*
There are a few things however, that I think are essential to discuss. The only thing being is I am tentative to label things that I do like for; what if I haven't perceived them correctly? Perhaps I'm looking at them through spectacles that have only allowed me to see what I want to see. Never the less, I will take the chance of putting them in writing and pray that things will reveal their true identity in time. And really, all of this is simply because things have started to appear to good to be true!
He isn't intimidated by my intuition, he wanted me to be at the funeral with him, he is considerate of my needs both physically/health wise and emotionally. When I ask direct questions concerning himself he is straight forward and honest. After relating some specific conversations we have had to my father, he said that it seemed that Edmond was aware of himself and this then enabled him to be aware of others. From what I can tell, after crossing checking as objectively as possible…, I am starting to believe this is true.
So, if Edmond is self aware, how will he work out his grief? And yet, how self aware is he really? Perhaps just enough to do the "basic" for himself and others but, when it comes to deep heart pain and issues, does he have the skills? However, I do have to give him one thing, he expressed to me specifically that he had cognitively worked on dealing with his Aunt's death a few years ago. He felt that he wasn't very successful and yet, to me it spoke of someone recognizing the need to address issues; that emotionally intense situations require processing. But, how does one process grief?
I think the main point of this whole article has become; how is he going to relate to it and how will I relate to him and he to me during this process? For some reason this question plagues me. Or perhaps not so much plague but, deep intense curiosity? It seems such an essential question to answer. I guess because I really don't know how the grief process works. I haven't had anyone die that I'm really close to and now, how do I relate to him? What if he doesn't let me in? Perhaps he won't be able to put it into words and I'm left outside? I want to be there for him. In some aspect I want to know that he needs me. But yet, wasn't that what he said when he requested my presence at the funeral?
I know very little about the grief process, I have things from my past that I have had to grieve for but, they have secondary not primary matters. I now simply pray that I can be there for Edmond when and where I can. That I don't seek to comfort out of selfish reasons- fear that I'm not being let in and rejected- but, out of a heart that seeks to give that which is needed.
