I’m still not sure how I feel about death.
Death is a common thing. I’m used to it happening.
However, every time someone dies, it really throws me for a loop. I’m caught between figuring out how I actually feel about it and figuring out if I feel anything in particular about it. When I was a little girl, and up to my high school years, I’d cry and cry over death, write depressing poetry and lyrics, possibly throw tantrums/have meltdowns, and mope around. Now, I try to think of that person in their best state, because that is how I would want to be remembered.
But when someone dies, time both stops and speeds up. People are sad and crying, yet they’re quickly putting together funeral arrangements. The week after the person’s passing, they’re either already in the ground or cremated, depending on the preferences1, and already, people are moving on with their lives. There’s nothing slow about it.
Someone dies, arrangements are made, and then it’s back to life. Over and over and over again.
And I just don’t understand it. Then again, I don’t apply feelings to things automatically. Death is confusing for me as far as feelings go; I don’t know what I feel or anything, so maybe I just find it so normal for someone to die, because isn’t it normal? Death happens, we can’t live forever, and there is absolutely nothing we can do about it.
It’s no lie bloggers don’t share everything that happens in their lives, and I’m no exception. Shortly after she moved here and after Papa passed away, my grandmother on my stepmother’s side was diagnosed with cancer, and she passed away during the last hour of 25th January, 2015.
She alphabetized letters in words2 in her head (without paper/writing it down), told funny and embarrassing stories of my step mom, and was a really nice, sweet person who had a lot of acceptance for people and was fun to be around.
And that’s how I’ll remember her. I didn’t have the chance to see her after she was diagnosed with cancer3, so I don’t have an ill image I’ll spend years and years trying to forget like I do with Mama Lois and Papa.
But it’s all so rushed. People want to get on with their lives as soon as possible. They don’t stop to think about how they may or may not feel — they needn’t try; they know how they feel.
When I cried all those years ago, I was simply mimicking those around me. I was sad because I was told I should be sad.
Maybe now I just don’t cry because I also can’t cry. I haven’t been able to cry in over four months, though I’m not sure what the deal is with that. According to House, M.D. (and also the reason I can’t bear watching it anymore), I might have some form of CIPA, or maybe some other worse thing.
But that’s not the point. People are in such a rush to live that they are so wrapped up in their feelings and don’t actually live… or maybe they do. I’m not one of those people who understands feelings, so perhaps I never will.
It’s just really weird to me, and it’s extremely annoying when people blame the way I am reacting to my age. I’ve experienced immense amounts of trauma in my life. To me, death is a less traumatic experience than being lost. I can’t help it, because it’s what I’ve been exposed to and experienced.
I guess I just don’t understand how people can live life with death being the most traumatic thing they experience as a whole.
Maybe I’m just numb to the pain, thus the way death is then handled feels rushed to me.
I’m not sure if this is an Aspie thing or not.