Death and All His Friends

“Grave digger — when you dig my grave, could you make it shallow so that I can feel the rain?” – Dave Matthews

Death is a topic that most people would like to avoid at all costs, whether it is the death of a friend, a loved one, a family member, or themselves. I will admit that it isn’t one of my favorite topics either, but I do understand why it is important to think about from time to time. However, the last place I think you should be thinking about death is at a funeral.

Let me explain. Death brings people together like nothing else other than marriage. This is irony at its finest, the universe saying “screw you, I’m in charge.” We spend more for funerals sometime even than for weddings, which is mind boggling to me. And why do we have them? In order for the people still alive to mourn the passing of the dearly deceased. That sounds incredibly dumb to me.

You see, we all knew the dearly departed in different ways. She may have been my grandmother, but she was your sister, or your aunt, or your mother, or your best friend. Depending on who she was to us individually, that’s how we mourn. Individually. No single other person can fathom how you feel at such a time, and yet the most comments we hear at funerals are along the lines of, “We know how you feel.” How can they?

I wrote my will about eight years ago, when I wasn’t even 30, and I did it because we were about to have our first child. I wanted to make sure she was provided for if anything happened to me or to my wife. And it was one of the most difficult things I have done that didn’t involve surgery. That’s because it forced me to look at my own mortality in a most intimate way. I, like most other people, went to think of myself as being here forever, but that isn’t an option, and writing that will makes it so present instead of future. It scared me, but it was me taking responsibility.

And that’s the biggest thing about death. It shifts responsibility from the dearly departed to the still living. Now you need to define your life without that person in it. You need to reconcile yourself to a new paradigm, and that’s okay. That’s the glory of life, the fact that it changes, and sometimes those changes are permanent. They don’t have to stay painful, though.

I would love for my grave to be shallow, but not to feel the rain. To feel that much closer to those I’ve left behind, the ones I will watch over forever. Okay, and for a little rain too. I love feeling it.

Sam