So last Friday I tried writing something about how great International Rally was, and then on Sunday I thought about writing something about the horrible car accident that happened in Stockton where McNair student Jonathan Sanchez was killed and Dean Dorman was seriously injured, but for whatever reason I just couldn’t write anything. I can’t make myself write.
Dean goes to my church, and we went to middle school together. More than that, I actually know him, like if I saw him I’d say hi, so he’s not just someone I see around and never talk to. He’s a friend, but I couldn’t write anything to honor him or his best friend, who seemed like a pretty awesome person from the stories I heard at his vigil. I wish I could just write something that could make things better, but I can’t.
Death happens too much. I hate it, and I don’t deal with it very well. I feel like this year has been full of death. It’s mostly been other people’s losses and I just feel terrible for them, but death has hurt me too. I hate seeing people sad, and it’s even worse with death because there’s nothing you can say to bring that person back. Breakups I can handle, annoying teachers are easy, and drama with friends is a piece of cake, but I can’t help with death.
I’m always in denial with death, even when I know it’s true. I don’t believe it because I don’t want to believe it. Part of me still thinks I’ll see my grandpa grillin ribs next Fourth of July and drinking his rum and Coke which I’ll accidentally take a sip of and then gag for ten minutes, but that won’t happen.
Although people are gone, they’re never really gone, if that makes sense. My grandpa saw every play I ever performed in, and now he’ll be at play show I do for the rest of my life. Now I can sing, dance, and act for him, because I know he’s watching. Now I think of him whenever I have a Coke or whenever I see Jack Sparrow drinking rum. My grandpa lives on in my memories, and although there is still pain in losing him, it’s okay because he’s still with me.
They say death is a part of life. Yoda says to not mourn the dead, but to rejoice for those who have passed into the Force. Christianity says basically the same thing. We say that our loved ones who pass away are in a better place now. We say “everything happens for a reason.” It’s all well and good for moving on, but I feel like no one address the truth that death sucks. It sucks because they aren’t with us anymore. It sucks because miss them. We miss their voice, their smile, their laugh — and their foot fetish, in Jonathan’s case. There was a lot of laughter about that.
I had fun at my grandpa’s funeral. I mean, it is a FUNeral after all. That’s what he would’ve wanted, so that’s what my family did. We joked, we laughed, we rejoiced; crazy as that sounds. I pray that with time those who are close to Jonathan can feel this way too, and I pray that Dean will read this one day and be able to laugh at my awkward writing style.
Remember to laugh,