Foot Forward

I've attended two funerals in as many weeks.  Should have been three, but two were on the same day so I had to choose.  I remember a time, not so long ago, where I'd get double wedding invites but now, slowly, the tide is turning.

I'm not all that old, my friends aren't either, but it seems like a generation is slowly leaving us now,  making days like today just something you do.  But no matter how many times you've gone through it, or done it, no one really seems to know what to do or what to say.  We look for a guide,  and it's usually found in the ritual of religion, no matter what you believe or pretend to believe, there's an order of things dictated from on high that tells us what to DO.  Meet here, go there, say this, do that.  Everyone needs something to do, to take their minds away from what is actually happening, from the thought that life for those suffering this loss will no longer be the same.  This may sound dramatic, but it's not.  Within this loss, you live with a custom of tradition for as long as possible, and this fades into a hazy type of normal and then it's the new normal and then, somehow, things are just the way they are.   

It's hard not to interject your own feelings of loss into the events of the day.   Who are you crying for?  Whose loss is this?  The Jewish faith recognizes this, and believes that if you are in mourning you should not attend services for another as your grief will be your own and not that of the family suffering.  When I first heard this, I understood and respected it but now a few years later I don't really see it.  It is impossible to separate personal feelings, emotions and memories, regardless of how long ago they happened, when confronted with something like this.   I am not mourning for me.  I mourn for everyone.   I am not crying for me.  I am crying for us - for the loss we all share.   There is comfort in that, in knowing that mourning and loss are universal, suffered and endured as rites of passage for all of us.  

We are left, then, when the proverbial dust settles, to find a new way.  We discover, not surprisingly, that this new way is not easy, nor is it better.  It is painful.  And ridden with feelings of guilt and anger and, yes, profound sadness.  We find ourselves somehow changed, not necessarily on the surface but changed deep inside.  All we can do is simply put one foot in front of the other and live.  Live our lives for those who no longer can, our steps and hearts a little heavier.