Comfy…….

Familiar. In outta the rain. Easy. Nice. Aha… Ahhhhhhhh…

Creatures of habit, we are. We stumble out of the uterus, not knowing anything - and before too long - we’ve got a growing list of things, people, places that are comfy.

My office chair. McDonalds on the weekends for breakfast, newspaper. Drives down roads past. Bed. Friends. Family. In our element.

Uncomfy. I thought I was comfy with death. Unfortunately, all too familiar in my own nuclear family. Learning I have an uncanny fear, and not very comfy with being around others who have lost loved ones. What to say? How to act? Is it ok to say “oh I miss _____” and if I do, will it come out as if ‘forced’, cause it ain’t.

I do remember from losing mother, father, sister - how very good it felt seeing a familiar face - and how appreciative the simple “I’m sorry” felt. I’ve bungled some deaths - not attended some funerals - and there’s no going back, no do-overs, so hopefully I can just remember the two words “I’m sorry” and be there into the future.

Death isn’t comfy. This morning’s paper… Beautiful 39 yr old gal. Brain cancer. “leaves behind 16 month old daughter.” Yuck. Terrible. Tragic. Shouldn’ta happened. Not fair. Uncomfy with that. Two year old twins die in car due to heat, windows rolled up. Not fair. Uncomfy with that.

Some friends of mine work in places where death happens. I would think it would never get comfy. A friend I recently reconnected with works with the elderly.. When asked “how do you do it… get attached… and then… death?”… Her sweet, quick response was ."I consider it an honor to be a person who is there for the transition between life and death." Nice. VERY nice.

I volunteered to be co-chair for our upcoming class reunion “recognition of the deceased.” Unfortunately, there are approximately 22 out of 211 now gone. Uncomfy with that. Included within two of my best friends forever, Richard Justus and Bill Skillman. Uncomfy with that. Not fair. Sad - very. How can one ever be comfy about losing loved ones so early in their lives? Ya can’t.

My partner in this task has pretty much done all the footwork herself. I’m uncomfy with that - but I’m just not as comfy with death as I thought I was. Comfy and familiar are completely different.

I don’t necessarily think grieving is ‘a process’ with an end. I think it’s a lifetime.

My ex mother inlaw is not in too gooda shape. I appreciate the days on this planet I got to spend loving her - and they will continue in memory until eternity. A beautiful lady - with her own, beautiful snowflake way of doing things. Fiercly loyal.. A dash of rebel. A wonderful mother. A great mother in law (In spitea the “3rd person” talk.. “Does he need more mashed potatoes?“). Fun. She’s lived life fun. From her I attribute abiding by “my body may be old, but my brain will be young forever.”

She even has a fun attitude about death. In addition to receiving a phone call on each and every birthday - hearing her on the other end singing “Happy Birthday” in it’s entirety… when prompted in person, she’d gladly sing “The Worm Song.” Onea my favorite life experiences hearing her sing it:

They always, always pick on me.
They never, never let me be.
I'm so very lonesome, awfly sad
its been a long, time since I've been glad,
but I know what I'll do, bye and bye,
I'll eat some worms, and then I'll die,
and when I'm gone just wait and see,
they'll all be sorry cause they picked on me.

That helps, but I’ll still never be comfortable with death. Trying for a positive spin - maybe that’s impetus enough to soak up, cherish, chose to enjoy - every waking minute.

Will try to do - until the day I pee my pants and forget my name. Love, Victurd.