I remember when I was younger and first beginning to come to grips with ideas like death and mortality, I was certain that death was something that became less jarring as you aged. Like, when I was 12 I recall thinking that if either of my parents died, I would surely die too, because what could fill that hole at that age? It didn't seem at all survivable.
But I also rationalized that if I could get through my teens and into my twenties, losing a parent would be something I could handle much more easily. Because it was natural, and part of the progression of things. It would still be sad, but normal.
But now, years later, I'm not so sure. My mom lost her aunt last week, a woman who I suspect she may have been closer to her than her actual mother, even though she might not come out and say it. Last year at this time she lost her cousin. Two years before she lost a close uncle. Its been very hard on her, and difficult for me as well because I wish I could be closer by to support her.
But watching her go through this has also provided me with the uncomfortable reminder that I'll some day have to endure the same things. And the horrible truth is this: I dont think it actually DOES get easier. My mom was two years older than me when her own dad died. When I think of this happening to me, the closest description I can think of to describe the feeling that wells up inside is horror. It still seems unsurvivable. But it has to be, because otherwise how would generations persist? We would have all been extinguished by the malignancies of our own broken hearts centuries ago.
Anyway, that was all horribly morbid. But its been on my mind. And it makes me feel so far from home, even farther than I already am.
