Grief

I'm a runner; not in the physical sense, but the emotional one. It started with the death of my father. A few months before Daddy was killed, we received the news early one Sunday morning my cousin, Alfredo, had been killed. "Fredo" was loved by everyone, especially me. He treated me like a kid sister, and let me tag along where ever he went. I was an emotional wreck. I cried all the way to church, through Sunday School, and the beginning of noon services. I was alarmed when Daddy grabbed me by the arm, whispered 'Let's go," and led me out of the church. I cringed in embarressment as everyone turned and stared as we made our exit. Three year-olds were escorted out of church, not fifteen year-olds.

Daddy sat on a bench on the front porch, crossed his arms and eyed me sternly. "Mind telling me what this is all about?"

"All what?"

'The boo-hooing."

I jerked my chin in the air and haughtingly stared down my nose. "Isn't it obvious?" I snapped. "I'm mourning for my cousin."

"No you're not. You're being selfish."

I reeled backwards from the sting of my dad's words. I bowed my head and mumbled, "How can you say that? I miss him. I--"

"Do you hear yourself? You keep saying 'I'. You're feeling sorry for yourself because "Fredo" isn't here; Fredo is in a much better place though, and you should try and be happy for him." Daddy rose from the bench, walked over and lifted my chin with his forefinger. I swallowed the large toad-sized lump in my throat and forced myself to look at him. Love and understanding radiated from his sapphire-colored eyes.

"Do me a favor. When my turn comes to leave this old world, don't make a fuss over me. Promise me. You see, I'll never be too far away from you, just as far away as your heart."

I remember how the sun shone off his raven black hair, how there was more gray hairs than I remembered, and there were more wrinkles in his dark skin. He didn't look old to me though; he looked like a Roman prince. Impulsively, I threw my arms around him and hugged him tightly. "Oh Daddy, you'll be around forever."

"I certainly hope so," he said, kissing me gently on top of the head. It wasn't to be; in a few precious months, Daddy was gone, leaving behind a scared little girl in a teenager's body.

I don't remember crying the night of the accident. Instead I was like a cat in a cage; the very air I breathed seemed to strangle me, and my best friend at the time, Kay, sensed that. "Come on," she said, taking me by the arm, "let's get the hell out of here." We walked to the corral and saddled two horses; a flashy paint for Kay, and my trusty palomino, Dewdrop. I swear the horse sensed something was wrong; she stood patiently as I swung into the saddle, so unlike her "fire and brimstone" personality.

We had ridden for several miles across my daddy's land when we reached a lone hill overlooking my house. "You know, you gotta cry sometime. Might as well do it here where no one but I can see." I stared down at the house, people scurrying about outside like a mound of disrupted fire ants.

"No, not now," I said stoically, turning my horse around. "Let's ride away even farther." That began my pattern of dodging reality and building an emotional wall around me. For a long time I didn't want anyone new in my life. I was scared of emotional attachments and the repercussions I would face if new friends or loved ones passed away.

I ran away from death; I thought if I didn't acknowledge it, then somehow it wouldn't be true, my loved one would still be alive. Looking back on it now, I see how wrong I was.

You can't make someone alive by wishing it. No matter how your heart breaks, it's not fair to wish them back into the day to day torment they faced while they were earthbound; they're happy now, and they're there in Heaven, waiting for you when your time comes, and what a joyous reunion that will be. Until then, they remain only as far away as your heart. For me, I hear my father's laughter in the voice of my children, see his love of life shining in their eyes.

It's okay to cry. It's a normal healthy way to release emotional tension. As you know, repressed emotions lead to physical problems such as ulcers, strokes, heart attacks. ect. You should face your grief head on and try and work past it, I learned that the hard way. Sonetimes life gives you a one-two punch, it's your decision if you rock back on your heels, recover and punch back, or you allow yourseld to get knocked out. Punch back.

What's your opinion?