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People Never Really Die
15 years ago
They just... Are transformed.
My grandfather died tonight. I was closer to him, it felt, than any of my other grandparents. I now only have one Grandmother left, who will soon be coming to live with us after my parents go down to Arkansas for the funeral.
I cried, and I'm sad... But... It's a different sort of sad. I came to a realization recently about death, and about humanity.
We humans have a natural problem with death; we fear it. We fear dieing, and we fear losing those who are close with us. But there's one thing that not many of us really understand. Those of us who die, never really die. Nothing ever dies, it's just transformed. It's separated from the reality of life, this illusion we create in our minds. They're always with us, as they were when they were alive. We cry and we are sad because we are no longer able to hold them, talk to them, enjoy their company and form new and wonderful lasting memories with them. We hurt, because they are no longer there with us in the flesh.
We're too worried about the flesh and blood to be able to see that they have been with us, and are still with us right then and their. Their energy is with us, their memory is with us. Their smile, their tears. Regardless of how hard it is now that they're gone, they've moved on. They're the lucky ones who get out first, I suppose. We'll all be following them some day. None of us will make it out alive, you know.
My Grandfather was very ill. Having been diagnosed with late-stage lung cancer, it metastasized throughout the rest of his body very quickly. It ended tonight with a heart attack. He wanted them to try what's called a stint. After two stints were put in, they found that he had a tear in his heart that they couldn't get to. After he got out of surgery, it wasn't long before he fell asleep. He went peacefully, after two years of struggling with something that was eating him away from the inside. He was, and still is, a good man. The only thing I can thank is that he passed quietly, and not miserably, in his sleep.
We never really go away. Nothing ever really dies. His energy has just moved on into another form. His spirit is where it needs to be.
I miss him, I do. I wished I could have seen him before he died. But regretting it will only worsen how I feel, and if I let myself regret, I'll end up hating myself. So I've let that go.
Coming to terms with it all doesn't make it any easier. I didn't know what to feel for the past week or two. I didn't know whether or not to feel sad, or to cry. It all hit me tonight after I came home from work and was told he had a heart attack. Soon after that, the surgery, and his passing. It all happened in the span of around an hour or so. Almost too fast for someone to even think about what was going on. But... Such is life; the swaying patterns of our existance, painted upon the canvas that we build.
I love you, Grandpa. And I miss you.
My grandfather died tonight. I was closer to him, it felt, than any of my other grandparents. I now only have one Grandmother left, who will soon be coming to live with us after my parents go down to Arkansas for the funeral.
I cried, and I'm sad... But... It's a different sort of sad. I came to a realization recently about death, and about humanity.
We humans have a natural problem with death; we fear it. We fear dieing, and we fear losing those who are close with us. But there's one thing that not many of us really understand. Those of us who die, never really die. Nothing ever dies, it's just transformed. It's separated from the reality of life, this illusion we create in our minds. They're always with us, as they were when they were alive. We cry and we are sad because we are no longer able to hold them, talk to them, enjoy their company and form new and wonderful lasting memories with them. We hurt, because they are no longer there with us in the flesh.
We're too worried about the flesh and blood to be able to see that they have been with us, and are still with us right then and their. Their energy is with us, their memory is with us. Their smile, their tears. Regardless of how hard it is now that they're gone, they've moved on. They're the lucky ones who get out first, I suppose. We'll all be following them some day. None of us will make it out alive, you know.
My Grandfather was very ill. Having been diagnosed with late-stage lung cancer, it metastasized throughout the rest of his body very quickly. It ended tonight with a heart attack. He wanted them to try what's called a stint. After two stints were put in, they found that he had a tear in his heart that they couldn't get to. After he got out of surgery, it wasn't long before he fell asleep. He went peacefully, after two years of struggling with something that was eating him away from the inside. He was, and still is, a good man. The only thing I can thank is that he passed quietly, and not miserably, in his sleep.
We never really go away. Nothing ever really dies. His energy has just moved on into another form. His spirit is where it needs to be.
I miss him, I do. I wished I could have seen him before he died. But regretting it will only worsen how I feel, and if I let myself regret, I'll end up hating myself. So I've let that go.
Coming to terms with it all doesn't make it any easier. I didn't know what to feel for the past week or two. I didn't know whether or not to feel sad, or to cry. It all hit me tonight after I came home from work and was told he had a heart attack. Soon after that, the surgery, and his passing. It all happened in the span of around an hour or so. Almost too fast for someone to even think about what was going on. But... Such is life; the swaying patterns of our existance, painted upon the canvas that we build.
I love you, Grandpa. And I miss you.
