Death is Forever — How Can I Make You Understand?

Face reality even though it sucks.

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Photo by Volodymyr Hryshchenko on Unsplash

A willful misunderstanding.

“Whole swaths of the country are simply tuning out the warnings from officials and experts,” write Washington Post reporters William Wan and Brittany Shammas in a bleak piece titled, “Why health officials are terrified of a pandemic Christmas.”

Who can you bear to lose?

I want you to wear a mask. Stay out of the airport. Stay out of your mother’s kitchen. Stay out of bars, restaurants, churches, and bowling alleys. It’s not hard.

Big numbers are hard to grasp.

So are small ones. Each year, roughly 16,000 children in the U.S. are diagnosed with cancer and 1,800 die. That sounds like relatively small number (compared with the entire U.S. population) until you find yourself picking out the dress your oldest child will be cremated in.

There are no do overs.

Death is forever. If you lose your person you will not get them back. “My person” is a term we use often in the forever-grieving community as someone so integral to our existence that to lose them is to lose all meaning in life as we once knew it. I lost my child, my person, my raison d’être from cancer.

Written by

Occasional poet. Writer of sad essays. Novelist. Birder and amateur photographer. I enjoy trees.

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