We, as a culture have a very strange and estranged relationship with death. We have a difficult time talking about it and it’s inevitability and we treat people who have lost a loved one like they have a horrible communicable disease. We also expect a neat and tidy grieving period. Grief takes us on a long and uncharted path. No two people grieve in the same manner. When we don’t take time to grieve it will rear its unresolved ugly head with a vengeance. I have experienced this myself. I had the great honor of holding both of my parents hands when they peacefully slipped into a permanent slumber. I cried on and off for a day. A day that I took off from the restaurant. ONE DAY!!?? I learned emotional stoicism from my mother. She did not tolerate outward displays of what she would define as weakness.
My siblings and I were fortunate that our parents had all of their affairs in order when they passed. This took the guesswork and stress out of what do with their bodies. They both wanted to be cremated. Actually, my dad wanted a Viking Funeral, but in the end he settled on cremation. At least it involved a portion of a Viking Funeral, the fire!
As I mentioned earlier, I was present when they both passed. I was unsettled by how many strangers were involved in the process of whisking them into their return to the cycle of life. This is the disturbing reality that I witnessed: a stranger declared them dead, 2 strangers picked up their bodies and placed them in a body bag, a stranger drove them to a crematorium, a stranger placed them in cold storage, a stranger took them out of cold storage, a stranger made sure they were reduced to only ashes, a stranger placed their remains in a vessel, a stranger drove their ashes to the funeral home, a stranger called us to let us know we could pick up their remains at the funeral home and lastly, a stranger handed me their ashes. No wonder we have an estranged relationship to death!
When I lost both of my dogs within six weeks of each other I was an absolute wreck. A very wise and wonderful person who frequents the restaurant asked me how I was doing. I was honest with her about my delicate emotional state. She told me that she had a close friend who was a grief counselor. She went on to tell me that grief, if not dealt with in a healthy manner has a compounding effect. Typically grief will return with great force unannounced and at inconvenient times. Well, that is exactly what happened to me. I did not allow myself adequate time to deal with the loss of my parents. The grief quietly and stealthily remained in a corner until it had the opportunity to come back in a tsunami style fashion. I am more sensitive to loss. We have witnessed our share of loss at Out of the Fire. We have known many of you for a significant amount of time. I am not afraid to ask people how they are doing after they have suffered a loss. None of us will pretend that we understand. Each loss is processed in a its own unique and precious way. We can empathize, listen and reach out to those who have suffered a loss. This, is the not so strange relationship that we have nurtured with all of you who choose to spend time with us at Out of the Fire.
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