If you're trying to pick a fight, you've chosen the right day. Right now this teenage soul is filled with mess and lore, so much so that I'm afraid the disorder might consume any sane feeling left in me. Everyone has their own way to deal with grief; the problem is, I haven't really found mine.
I've been very fortunate to never have attended a funeral, or seen someone I love grow cold. Maybe I'm spoiled then, to have had the opportunity to know and love my family, without the social interruption of death. If so, so be it. Let it be the fault of my own ignorance, perhaps better classified as innocence, that I can't seem to wrap my head around the idea that my Grandfather has passed away. Really, at this point in my maturity, I should be able to distinguish past from present. It gets more complicated when his present, becomes our family's past I suppose. It's still not an excuse to behave so childlike though. I can't even bring myself to attend the funeral, because I refuse to accept this reality. It's a selfish need to keep things constant, to refuse negative change that's motivating my decision to stay home. That, and a fierce cold.
More than anything though, I wish I had the courage to support my family in their grief, in their pain. Once again however, my own selfishness is preventing me from achieving that. It's incredibly upsetting to see such a profound hurt on the faces of those you love most, and it makes the situation become all the more real. Being surrounded by grieving family, by sadness, for some can be comforting. Maybe that's what families are suppose to do, cry together. I can't seem to allow myself to do that though, because I refuse to accept this pain. I'm trying to learn to grieve with a smile, a token of gratitude for the luck that my Grandfather had in living his life surrounded by love, marked by accomplishments and it's length. I smile at the fact that he is no longer in pain, and that he need not struggle any longer. I smile at the memories we have together, that will continue to make me smile for years to come. And I know that it's strange, but I feel as though I can't accept his death, so much as celebrate his life.
My Dad used to say that after his mom died when he was a child, he used to try and find her in the stars. Turns out that the light we see may be from stars that have fallen decades, even centuries ago. So in a way, the stars are like people: even after they are gone, they still have the ability to light up your sky for awhile. I know that although I struggle in this darkness now, in this uncertainty, my grandfather's memory will always provide the light I need to get through the night.
As the stars align,
Arctic Hipster
