The Biggest Moot Point

Death. What a word. Just as unavoidable as life. Hell, it's a part of life! It's crazy. When a loved one dies… That hurts. It's painful. The death of a loved one is just hell. We know that. We all know that. We, humans, know that. There are a lot of clichés, pretty words, and ridiculous idealisms that surround death. That surround the word "death." Death is as taboo as it is beautiful. Death is supposedly the moving on to a better place. That's what parents tell their kids. It's all okay. He/She is in Heaven now. Yet most people are terrified of it, so it's taboo. No, not terrified. We're sad. It makes us sad. Talking of death reminds us "that everyone we know someday will die." I love that song. "Do You Realize" by the Flaming Lips. They were absolutely right. And it's sad, and it sucks. We deal with it. But they were also right in believing it's because of that truth that we must be happy now. It's confusing. Confusing, so confusing. When that person dies. We want to scream, shout, break things, cry, shrivel up into a teeny ball, bawl our eyes out, forget everything, and so much more. We feel so sad. Hurt. Confused, frustrated, regretful, upset, angry, tired, exhausted, small, abandoned, helpless. The emotions just spin in a whirlwind in the confines of the small little broken bits of our hearts and consciences. And we will deny it. No, they're not dead. They can't be dead. It's just not possible. But it is. It so is. And it might take us a few minutes, days, years to come to terms with a death. They're gone. They're gone, they're gone, they're gone, they're GONE. And even after it's okay. It's fine. We can live on. We can move on. We have our rough points when it just crushes us again. We need to cry again. We miss them too much again. We always miss them, but we remember that they're gone. They're gone, they're gone, they're gone, they're GONE. We remember the good times. Remember the time when… Or wasn't it so funny/heartwarming/heartbreaking/totally awesome when they… Oh Lord, they're GONE. Sometimes we'll put on a brave face. It's okay. We're strong. We have to be strong. We need to be strong. Other people are hurting and we have to support them. Not us. Them. They are hurt. Don't cry. Don't cry. They are hurting and can't see our tears. Don't CRY. Don't. Why are we crying…? Death isn't always pretty either. There are the crash victims, the accident casualties. Elderly who just deteriorate right before our eyes. Cancer victims and war veterans. Little children die! And it's so hard to say… Support our troops? Support their families. Our grandpas who are just too kind, too fun, too good to die. And they do. They do, they do, they do, they do, THEY DO. It's been how many years…? We sometimes loose count. We are fine. We just remember. Hey. Do you think they're proud of us? Do you think they would be okay with who we are now? Is that a good or bad thing? How come they're gone? Gone, gone, gone. WHY? They're dead. How come it's so hard to say that? They. Are. Dead. Dead. Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, DEAD. The word looses meaning after a while. Death scares some of us. Death isn't scary to others. Some want to die. Most don't, even if it's not as scary as public speaking. In a poll once taken most people are more afraid of public speaking than they are of death. Some people are afraid of both. What's scary is being so helpless. Nothing we do will bring them back. We can do nothing. Nothing at all. Because they will still be dead. Because death is only more unavoidable than life. Because in we still live even if they don't. Because it all looses meaning if we think about it too much. Die. Dead. Death.

I miss you, Grandpa.