For such a natural part of life, death is an uncomfortable topic for most people. I both understand why and don’t understand why at the same time.
Relevant information: my grandfather owned a funeral home and I spent my entire life surrounded by death.
Watching this week’s Face Off and hearing the contestants being all uncomfortable being in that beautiful mausoleum started this train of thought. A nice sleeper car got added to when I was singing in my kitchen and my oldest child got all sorts of squicked (it’s a word, I swear) out by the lyrics. Again, I understand but don’t understand as it’s a beautiful song that is currently quite stuck in my head. I found the caboose when I was mulling over the fate of a character whom I love a great deal but may have to meet his end.
I have witnessed uncountable funerals from most walks of life and they are all beautiful, sad, amazing, and strange in their own ways. I have found humor in funerals I probably shouldn’t have. I have found beauty in the skull of a deer left to the elements for who knows how long before my husband found it for me. I have written about death, a lot. Quite a number of my books come with body counts.
I don’t remember a time when I didn’t understand what death was. I don’t remember anyone ever explaining it to me the way I have had to explain it to my children. It just exists in my world the same way that breathing exists. It may be the only part of life I don’t worry and fret over. I understand not wanting to rush to meet death but I don’t understand being afraid of it. The hard part is all the living that comes before it.