I have a small follow up to yesterday’s piece regarding life and death.  My grandfather passed away 31 years ago and that moment has stuck with me for so long.  From being told he was sick, to being told he passed, to the experience of seeing his body and the dream after in which he told me he was alright now, that loss impacted nearly everything in my life after.  One moment I rarely talk about associated with it was my grandmother’s reaction.  She told the story herself multiple times, probably more times than I knew of, but I didn’t realize it bothered me until I spoke with my family regarding this most recent loss we know is coming.  I don’t deny that my grandfather’s death hit my grandmother really hard—we didn’t anticipate losing him, truly.  But after he passed, we sat in her kitche, the rest of us collectively mourning and grieving and crying and, in her own way of looking for support, she said to the group, “I saw him on the table, gave him a kiss and took his hand and said, ‘what a waste, Joe’.”  Even at 11 years old, I knew she was referencing the waste of a life they could have had together.  As I got older, I realized she was more specifically referencing the waste of a life she wanted them to have together.  In some ways I can understand that—relationships are never easy and we build resentments for the things we want but can’t have, the things we feel we are denied out of control, the loss of a dream we had at one point.  And when my grandparents married, it was a different time so the expectations couples held for each other were entirely different than today.

The part I’m growing to understand is that she didn’t just mourn a vision she had for her life, she resented the life she created with my grandfather.  She got herself in such a tizzy over the years wanting things to be a certain way, demanding her children behave according to her expectations (under the guise of upsetting my grandfather), controlling how everything appeared because she thought that was what she was supposed to do.  She felt alone in creating that image because my grandfather loved life.  I can’t say he was an easy man but he certainly wasn’t difficult either.  He took care of his family, he ensured no one went without, he provided a source of emotional support as well.  My grandfather was also  very direct in his help—he’d be there but he wouldn’t let anyone take advantage so if you made a mistake that affected or hurt him, once he could forgive, twice was pushing it, and there was rarely a third time.  But with that being said, he was also loving and logical and tried to show her the world.  I think it was his faith that bothered her the most.  He lived and believed how he truly felt while she acted as she was told a good Catholic should.  She acted out of fear—fear of what people would think, fear of disappointing her family, fear of losing her family, fear that if she didn’t do what she was “supposed to” she would be punished.  And she saw a man living his life, loving as he knew how, fulfilling his bargain in a way she didn’t understand, in a way she expected him to know without her ever talking about it.

To my knowledge, my family member didn’t know that story—they weren’t around in that moment but who is to say that my grandmother didn’t repeat it to them.  We were in a long conversation about what death meant and how this death we’re dealing with is sad more than anything—not for the loss of the life, but for the loss of the life that could have been.  This person just said, “it’s a waste.”  And it hit me differently.  While the context and meaning were the same, after learning more information about what had happened in this family, it made more sense. We waste so much time trying to make life what we think it should be and trying to manipulate others to fit into some mold of how we think they should be living and trying to elicit the feelings and behaviors that work for us and suddenly there are other feelings compiled.  We get angry when people don’t act how we think they should.  We get sad and we ignore and we yell all because we aren’t living up to someone’s expectations or vice versa.  And instead of talking it out and seeing if there’s some sort of resolution, we allow it to fester and we fixate and suddenly we aren’t living at all.  Staying stuck in the ruins of the idea instead of living with what is, THAT is the waste.  Speaking from this experience, don’t waste our time on regret and anger and pain, especially when those things are caused by some unmet expectation that was never expressed or explained in the first place.  Live openly, honestly, authentically, because, while there may still be some moments that hurt or are uncomfortable, it passes in the long run and we can move on.  The point is to keep moving on.  The point is to not be stuck.  The point is to live while we are here—don’t mourn a life while we’re still living it.  Just go out and live and there will be no question on whether or not it was worth it in the end.