I don’t deal with death well. It never seems real and is just an uncomfortable situation. I don’t know how to feel or what to think. I may just be protecting myself b/c I know how upset I get over little things like “what was the last thing I said to him/her? Why didn’t I just message him/her the other day like I thought about?” I get too caught up in regret.
I do cry when someone dies. It’s not usually at the thought that they have passed on, but with thoughts like “we’ll never talk again” or “she was so much nicer to me than I was to her and I’ll never be able to make it up to her.” Another thought that gets to me is how their family feels. How angry I would be if I were a parent and my child died before me. How incredibly empty and alone I would be if my Husband, new boyfriend, and only son were taken from me in a few short years.
Everyone says it, but it really isn’t fair how some of us live, and some of us die. It never makes sense that the people who are making something of themselves or who are spending so much time loving and caring for others are the ones whose lives are lost prematurely. Why not me? Why am I here?
When people die, I feel like everyone else gets so fake with their “I’m sorry to hear that” and “He’s in a better place” and “She’ll be in our hearts always” and “Take care of yourself.” I hate how all of a sudden, everyone says “I love you” a little more often and promises to talk to everyone more often and spend more time together. I say everyone is being fake for the simple fact that in a few weeks or months when the shock of death has worn off, we will all go back to our normal, self-obsessed, materialistic ways. It’s all a kind thought and done out of good intentions, but it never lasts. It doesn’t feel sincere.
That being said, I’m as guilty of the insincere change of heart and fake words as anyone. It’s what we do. We get teary-eyed and touch each other on the shoulder. We hug and bawl and slobber and apologize. Maybe the faault isn’t in the fake words, good intentions, and short lasting efforts to stay in touch, but instead in the fact that we don’t do these more often. It’s a shame it’s only for a few weeks or months. Why can’t we hug and cry and slobber and promise and keep the promises more often?
I know this is just a bunch of words and incomplete thoughts. It’s early and had I very little sleep. As I was eating my cereal and watching cartoons, Facebook informed me of the death of my cousin, Morgan. I feel sick, I feel tired, and i feel so bad for Aunt Debbie, the woman who as always been the most emotional, empathetic person I’ve ever met. The woman who lost her husband and moved from TX to VA to live with my family in the hopes of getting past the heartbreak. She had a new boyfriend after a few years, but one night she couldn’t get a hold of him and found out he had died of a heart attack. This woman made it past that and after a few more months, moved back to TX to be with her son. Last night, probably less than a month since Debbie moved back, Morgan died in a motorcycle accident.
And this morning, we are all saying our apologies, sending our thoughts and prayers, shedding our tears, and I’m here with such a confused feeling… sad but unaware, regretful but hopeful.
He really is gone and it really is a shame. He was a great guy and had done so much and still so little. He was young. It wasn’t his time.
Here’s to you Morgan. I’m sorry that your death has brought on another time for us all to look at the world more clearly in such a false sense or rebirth. I’m sorry that you’re gone and we’re all still here, wasting our days. I’m sorry that I never messaged you when I thought about it and I’m sorry I didn’t think of it more often. I’m sorry that instead of praising you and telling stories of your life, I’m writing a bitter blog post no one will read about the empty promises and negative attitudes of those of us still living.
I remember when we were little, Morgan and you would wrestle with us in the floor if your house. I remember when you were older, Morgan and you played the guitar for us at MawMaw’s house in the back of that red truck. I remember a few weeks ago, Morgan when I stalked your facebook and smiled at how proud you were in your cop uniform. I hope you were happy and I’m thankful to have had you as my cousin. Rest in peace, Morgan.
