To Laugh at Death

Disclaimer: I’m okay. I have support, I’m on the mend, and the storm is passing.

“I just want to laugh at death

and for once sleep through the night without waking.”

Hello, gentle readers.

I wrote these lines a few months ago after I noticed that people who have come close to death tend to laugh at the idea. Several of my friends and family have struggled with depression, and they laugh at their experiences. I found that extremely unsettling at first. Why would someone laugh at something so sad and awful?

Then I had enough experiences of my own to sometimes laugh at death. I learned that it’s not death that I fear, it’s pain, and what death takes away I can never get back. More specifically, I fear loss.

If I were to die tomorrow, I wouldn’t fight it. Maybe it’s the depression that still lurks in me, but it’s not something I fear. I refuse to take my own life, but at the same time, I don’t want to exist for longer than I have to. See this tirade for more information on that.

It’s loss that I fear most. That, to me, is like death while still living. Loss is the worst pain I have experienced. Tomorrow is the third anniversary of my dad’s death, and throughout these last three years, I think I learned what Hell feels like. I miss him horribly. It’s like someone stole my arm in the middle of the night with no explanation. I freaked out at first, but then I got used to only having only one “arm”.

Then come the times where I have to lift a very heavy box, and I break down. I can’t do it on my own. So I call for help, and those who are more able bodied than I come and assist me.

Then there are some who have also lost their metaphorical limbs, and only those of us who have lost limbs of our own can truly understand their pain. Together we learn to walk through Hell and someday learn to laugh at Death in our own way.

I like to think that the more hard stuff we go through, the better we are able to assist others who are going through the same things. When a friend of mine also lost her dad, someone wrote “chin up!” on a card. I was angry. I understood where they were coming from, but they hadn’t lost an arm like we had. That, to me, is why people get so angry after a fresh loss. The people around them don’t always seem to understand – truly understand – their pain.

I’ve been dealt a few crushing blows, and I want any readers of mine know that they are not alone. You are never alone. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve felt that crushing loneliness where it seems like all light and hope have gone from my life. Were it not for my best friend, who lost an arm of her own, along with others who understood, I would not be here today. I would not be here today without people who relate to me. They are teaching me to have faith that I can survive and maybe even laugh at death myself someday.

Until next post,

Meg

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