Names Still Spoken

I haven't written anything on here for a while, only because I usually want something interesting and profound to say other than woke up, went nowhere, slept. 2020 was a hard year for me, honestly it was a had year for everyone, not a single person has been untouched by the pandemic in one way or another. Vaccines are being distributed now, which is exciting, it means there is a light at the end of this very long tunnel. hopefully this time next year I'll be out and about with friends catching up on everything we've missed. 

But right now, life is still a little hard, because of all the people I've lost this year. at least 12 people who I know have passed between Jan and December 2020, some of them I wasn't very close to but some of them I very much was, like my Grandpa Harold, or my Uncle Neil, and most recently my Stepmom, Julie. 

                                        Please enjoy this lovely autumn pic from when I was in Michigan last. 

I am not unaccustomed to death, as a matter of fact I've been going to all sorts of funerals at least 1 every 5 years for most of my life. there was a time where it was once a year. I have a large family, with both my grandmothers having 10 and 17 siblings, you get used to it. But having someone so close to you leave you hits different, as it should. I haven't spoken about it too publicly because I try to be a private person, and as I write this I'm still on the fence about publishing it. 

Grief is a weird thing, and its hard to describe unless you've gone through it. I've heard a few good examples of what its like and to be honest they are bang on. like how overall, grief is like a ball in a box with a button. The ball bounces around the box and hits the button, and when that happens you are struck with overwhelming sadness. At first the ball is really big and is constantly hitting the button, so you are just sad a lot and there's lots of crying. but over time the ball gets smaller and hits the button less often. The button still hurts as much as it did the first time it was hit, and its still very hard. And some days the button gets hit a lot and others it doesn't hit the button at all. I like that example because it gives me a good visualization of what is happening in my mind. 

But the other thing that really stuck with me is that someone doesn't just die one death. they die a bunch of little deaths, because someone isnt really gone until you need them for something, because then you feel the loss. And its been over a month since losing Julie, it's really starting to come into play. When someone dies at first all you can think about is how great they are and all the things you want to still say to them, but as time passes all you think about is the little things you will not be able to do. Like dad is notoriously bad at answering his phone, so i call Julie because she's reliable. It was always a nice interaction cuz then i got to chat with my stepmom and the phone would eventually be handed over to dad. But the other day i called and he as usual didn't answer so I naturally go type in her number and i remember. She's gone. and its like she died all over again. Simple automatic things like a quick text or a phone call suddenly not available to me. 

when I heard the phrase "people come and go but life goes on", I honestly never thought it was about anyone dying. I always put it on myself losing touch with others as I go through life. But in the small moments where i go to do something simple, i feel the loss and I realize that life goes on.

 There's a quote from the book Going Postal by Terry Pratchett (I highly recommend any of his books they are amazing), and in this book there is a man who dies on this system called the Clacks, which is a type of communication between a telegraph and the internet, if you can believe it. Anyway, the guy dies but the other Clacks operators put his name in the system to run through the Clacks forever. When someone asks why this is, one of the operators replies "Don't you know that a man is not dead, while his name is still spoken?". 

I think about that a lot, no one is truly gone while you still talk about them, and the impact they have in your life. I still talk about my college professor, Prof Jaworski, because he meant a great deal to me, and now thinking of him brings me great joy- sadness too because I miss him- but joy because I remember the man he was and what that means to me. 

Even though right now it hurts to talk about Julie, or my Grandpa Harold, or my Uncle Neil, I know that eventually, in this life, I will remember them with great joy because while I speak their name they aren't truly gone from this world.