Cauterizing Grief

Death first introduced itself to me when I was too young to even remember the introduction. My father was involved in the volunteer fire service at the time and with it being the 90s and my mother at work, he was supervising. On the return trip from a scene, a piece of the apparatus hit a deer. Being public servants the firefighters pulled the carcass to the field. At this point my father left me unsupervised. When he noticed I had wandered off, he found me, my nose inches from the carcass. Core memory? Not so much. Formative, probably more than anyone realized at the time.

As the years progressed, there was the passing of great grandparents and the passing of my paternal grandfather in 90s. I was still young and it did not really have an impact on me. He suffered from Multiple Sclerosis and was wheelchair bound and nonverbal for the majority of my memories. It was also around this time I was introduced to Ray Stevens and specifically how he "Ain't Sittin' Up With the Dead No More". The 90's also introduced me to "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" the movie version first and the death-centric themes for that entire universe.

Fast forward to the early 2000s when I was following the career of David Boreanaz and I found forensic anthropology through "Bones". I picked a college that had Anthropology as a major, but quickly determined that was not the path for me. I instead chose Criminal Justice and minored in Biology. With that minor came Human Anatomy, which used a real cadaver for the accompanying labs. This led me to my internship.

My internship was a very hands-on experience with the county coroner's office. 5am calls, late night calls, houses, roadsides. I even had the opportunity to attend an autopsy. This is also when death was determined to walk by myside for the next several years. My internship would have been the spring semester of 2012. The autumn before, my maternal grandfather would be given the terminal diagnosis. Death hung heavy around me knowing that the call could come at any time.

It did come one night. He wasn't expected to make it through the night. I drove and Death waited. He passed later that night after I got to say goodbye. I stayed with my grandmother and held her when she got the call. I stayed home from school the entire week. We, as a family, planned, cried, and laughed. The funeral was standing room only. The whole community grieved.

Somewhere between 2012 and 2013, my paternal grandmother passed. The woman was fierce and a model of resilience. After the passing of my grandfather, whom she had been the primary caregiver, she went on bus trips and was very independent up until a year or two prior to Death. I remember one of the last times I saw her, she was phatom quilting. This is when I noticed the weirdness of viewings before the funeral. The dead I didn't have a problem with and could deal. The dead in make-up made me uneasy, still do. Death left me alone for a few years after that, about six years worth of peace.

2019 is when Death glued itself to me and refuses to let go. In January, on the anniversary of the passing of my maternal grandfather, my Bestest Boy, Coal, died. I was the one to find him. It was sudden. I remember driving up the drive way. I could hear him barking in the garage where he stayed with my other Good Boy, Ranger. When I took them dinner, he wasn't moving, he was gone.

June 2019, Death came again. A dear family friend that was close to my cousin passed away. He was funny, and always had a hug and joke. Death came again not even a month later. A sorority Sweetheart and a dear friend lost his life in a car accident time zones away. Death took one of the sweetest most caring souls from the world, as well as a future doctor. Death wasn't done.

November 2019, I lost my maternal grandmother. In 2015 I had moved in with her for a year and acted as her caregiver, till she moved into an apartment. From the apartment she eventually transitioned to an assisted living. At some point she began talking with Death. She knew Death was coming and was hinting at it, saying things like how she wouldn't be able to make it to Thanksgiving that year. Sure enough, the Tuesday before Thanksgiving Death took her home. Death still wasn't done.

Death had a way of announcing himself and lingering. He announces himself in the phrase, "there's no cure" or "there's nothing that we can do". What happens to a man when he is told that there is no hope. Progressive Supranuclear Palsy (PSP), is a progressive disease and is not fatal on its own can make something as mundane as a UTI a death sentence. My father received that diagnosis and I watched as he gave up his will to live. Death came for my father a few days before his birthday in February of 2020. I went to work. I didn't want to be there when the funeral director came to collect him. I didn't like that he didn't look like himself. I hated that the home he was in before he came home for those last few days shaved his beard. My father who had a beard my entire life, looked nothing like himself those last few days.

After that Death slowed down then. He came for my aunt, then a few years later he collected my cousin. My aunt was expected. She was fading in her battle against cancer. My cousin was a shock. He was on duty when his heart failed. I went to the viewing. I was uncomfortable, Death was hanging near and I wanted to make a quick exit. The rest of the service was beautiful. His impact in the community was evident.

Death comes and goes but Death has a cousin, Loss. Loss is everywhere and cuts deeper than Death. Loss has been haunting me since 2020. After my father passed, we lost our house. With the house we lost some of our possessions, as well as my dogs and cat. When I resigned from a job I loved, I felt Loss sticking it's claws into me. The security of the job, the pay, the youth I was working with, *some* of my co-workers. Now more recently, Loss is tightening its grip. My car is dying. The car I had since 2018. With the dead car come the loss of my freedom and my sense of self as I travel all over the area. My car dying also brings the Loss of any savings we had as we figure out the fine lines of repairing versus going different.

This is a way to hopefully exercise the grief and loss that, according to my unofficial therapist, you know who you are if you're reading this, that I never really processed, because I never really had the time to do it properly.