Linking Back: Part 2

Warning: material of an uncomfortable nature to follow.

Experiencing death is a natural part of the human existence, I suppose. When a child experiences the death of a loved one, it can be very troubling. As a child I was in the constant habit of making friends with adults, people much much older than me. I think it was because adults made sense to me; they were also accepting as I've always had a certain amount of charm when it comes to meeting older folks. I'm a "good kid" and I think, for many adults, I was a glimmer of hope and redemption for the younger generations. These adults invested a lot in me, taught me a lot about life, and when some of them passed it was a distressing puzzlement to me...after all, we all expect that our friends won't pass on so long before us.

The first friend I lost was Vicki. She was my mom's age, and used to watch my and my siblings. She was a particular and grumpy woman, but she really cared for us kids. My mom inherited some of her belongings when she passed on; it was the first funeral I remember and I cried so hard.

Another friend I lost was Sonia. She was an old ex-WAC, grizzly and grim. She worked at the library I volunteered at when I was 12-15, and she was really protective of us volunteers. Sonia encouraged me in my beekeeping hobby, and I doubt I've had very few people is interested in my well-being as her. We were also friends at a critical time in my life, right when you start to grow and feel awkward and everything in your body goes "foom!" at once. Sonia died when I was about 16 from lung cancer. I remember going to the service...I was so heartbroken. Sonia used to tell me that when people died it's only like a caterpillar hatching into a butterfly. Her sister handed out butterflies at the funeral and I still have a couple of those. Everytime I see a butterfly I think of her and wonder if she's able to see me wherever she's at.

The third person I lost as a kid that really sticks out in my mind is the very grandmotherly lady, Helen, that used to live across the street. She and her husband Pete were the best to me and my family, kind, talked about all sorts of things, and always gave me food when I went over. It was like a well-behaved version of Dennis the Menace, with me as the good Dennis. I remember going over to Helen's house all the time as a young kid, barefoot, shorts, just kicking it at their dining table talking about whatever. I'm not sure why Helen and Pete put up with me, but they seemed to love having me over. Helen died from a stroke caused by a blood clot that formed when she broke her leg. When I went to the viewing, I remember thinking, "this isn't Helen, this thing in front of me is empty, and it only superficially looks like Helen."

So, from a very young age and all growing up I've had a very keen sense of death and the nature of life. I know life is short, that it can be taken without notice or reason, and from a very young age I've always known that particularly keen sense of loss and despair that comes from losing someone you love. I don't know entirely how these events affect me today, but I think they tend to darken my thoughts, particularly where thinking about death and life are concerned.