Loss and Sausage

I knew I should go, even though I didn't want to. It was the right thing to do. 

There are times you have to play the adult, (something I am often not good at, as many of you can attest to) when all I really wanted to do was go home after working all day. But part of being in a relationship is putting your personal desires aside and doing the right thing. 

The funeral home was only a few miles from work and I knew right where it was. The air was too cold, the kind of cold that makes one instantly uncomfortable and longing for the warmth of home. The tires of my car crunched on the ice in the parking lot as I pulled in. I hadn't been in a funeral home since the death of my ex-wife's grandfather. 

This, however, was not a loss that affected me. I wanted to be there for a friend. Her mother died just a few days ago. On Christmas Day, actually. 

I parked as close as possible so to avoid the biting chill as much as possible. The funeral director-guy opened the door for me and directed me to the right room. Actually there was only one room taken. Not really anywhere else to go, but that is his job, to direct those wishing to pay their respects, and he did it well. 

The room was full of people. There were the obligatory pictures set up. Dozens of pictures taped to poster board and placed on a three legged stand. Helping all those who knew the deceased remember her at some of the high points of her life. Times when people pulled a camera out to lock in a memory. 

I waited my turn to talk with my friend. I chatted a little bit with a co-worker who also knew her. Our wait didn't take long.

I gave her a hug and told her I was sorry for her loss.

Then I listened to her.

Her sense of loss was palpable. 

At first, she just started to talk about how it happened. Her mother had been in hospice and they knew death was close. Thankfully she had a chance to say goodbye one last time. They had a chance for one last moment in their relationship.

One last chance to peer into each others eyes and feel the depth

and warmth

and pure value of the relationship.

Not knowing for sure it was the last time, hoping it wasn't, but realizing it was probable. 

She held up well at first, showing the strength that I knew she has in her. Relating the words that formed the story she had undoubtedly recited to many others that night. 

Then the fresh wave of grief broke through the strength and the tears formed in her eyes. 

"Her dying leaves such a void in my life. I saw her ever week at the same time. I took care of her. We had our routines. She filled up such a large part of my life."

Shortly thereafter I said my goodbye. She had many other people to see and didn't know what else to say. 

On the way home, I kept thinking of what she had said about her mom. 

Her mom would leave a huge void. She filled up so much space in her daughter's life. I got to thinking about loss. How the absence of a loved one leaves an emptiness in you. How you recall the memories of the time you spent together, how their presence filled something in you. Took up part of you. 

And then they are gone. The space they took up starts to diminish. Not at first, of course. In the beginning you are almost full to overflowing with them. All you can think of is them. You ache with loss with every breath. It seems like you will never recover. You hoard the memories and try to hold on to them, try to keep them fresh and real in their sudden absence. 

And I got to thinking... How many people do I affect like that? In those closest to me, how much of their lives do I fill? And what do I fill it with? 

Also, how many people fill my life? What do I let them fill it with? Do I let them in? Or do I keep them at bay, hoping to avoid pain if I let them fill too much? 

Relationships are kinda like sausage. (you knew it was coming, right?)

All kinds of stuff can be packed in the casing, mostly good, probably some bad... but we don't really want to know about that do we?

We pack all kinds of stuff into the casing of a relationship. The more time we spend, the more experiences we share, the bigger it grows, the more space it fills in you.
And the more you will mourn it when it is gone.

I have felt my own significant loss. Thankfully I still have both of my parents.

But my divorce ripped out my heart. But this note isn't about rehashing that pain.

This year I have been trying to learn something valuable. I have been trying to not live in mourning what i have lost, but instead to try and rejoice in what I still have.

Mourning IS very important. We should never try to shortcut it. It MUST run it's course.

But we can't live there.

If We do We will miss out on what is valuable around us. We will miss the chance to fill our loved ones lives with all the value and strength they need us to fill their lives with. For a life with no one filling it is an empty life to be sure. 

I leave you with these questions:

Whose lives are you filling?

What are you filling them with?

Who is filling your life?

It's kind of a funny thing that we become most full ourselves as we pour ourselves out. 

Go.

Live.

Be full as you fill others.