I grew up in the funeral business. Quite used to death being around me, but not affecting me. I was eight years old the first time I remember being afraid of death. I found out that after we die, our nicely embalmed bodies still decay. That we too can be like dinosaur bones. That a spirit is not necessarily in the shape of our body. It was YEARS before I could deal with that information.
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I’ve seen it. I’ve smelled it. I went to college and drove used cars from the financial gain of it.
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I’ve seen people of all ages after they die. People I have never met. People I would never have known about, had they not been laying in, essentially, the downstairs of my house.
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I’ve seen my great-grandmother, both grandfathers, a grandmother, and my father all after they died. Most before they were all “prettified” for viewing. I’ve watched the ashes of a friend’s father be poured into the ground – held my breath because I was terrified of inhaling a puff of Richard. I’ve seen clients I’d grown to love – age 9 and age 79. The wooden urn holding a sorority sister being carried out of the church.
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Three of my closest friends were plowed into by a drunk driver* – -broken bones, faces, shouldn’t have survived, and they did. That was the first time I truly realized I was not immortal. Innocence was lost that morning when I heard the news.
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Anniversary dates are rough. The span of March 29 through April 6 was just designated ‘teh suck’ because that whole stretch of time marked a collection of days that stole pieces of innocence.
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Six months ago – exactly six months ago right now, I sat on Skype with my girls and we celebrated April 7. Celebrated the end of the suck and the beginning of a new year.
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Shortly after nine am on April 8th, I learned that April 7th was in no way the end of the suck.
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It was the end of innocence. The beginning of the rest of my life with the blinders off. The beginning of me watching Alex a little more closely – Praying a little more often for his safety … Â because I’ve seen it up close – I’ve seen … I see …
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In the last six months, I’ve noticed my temper flaring less often. Because srsly? Perspective? I can haz it.
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The loss of innocence brought a loss of fear as well. A balance of “you wanna mess with me punk? do ya?” and “doesn’t matter if I worry, sometimes I’m just helpless”.
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The loss of innocence brought the beginning of me learning to love my friends out loud. Partially because we’ve tightened our arms around each other these last few months. Partially because DAMN sisters – I want you on MY side. (You know who you are – I’m not naming names.)
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I turned my blog purple on April 7th. I’ve gradually faded the purple out to a less in your face kind of purple. It’s still in the header – but it’s letting new colors in. Over on the sidebar – that’s my Maddie place. It links to my Maddie posts. I’m keeping her here, I’m just making room at the table for the little girl who is coming into our community
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As an aside – to my troll – you aren’t wanted or welcome here. Go away. You don’t belong here.
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*Jennifer – this was the wreck in Sep 1995 in Springfield out on Battlefield by the theater
