Death

Death

No one really knows how it feels to suddenly have a part of his life
taken away by the death
of a loved one
until it happens to him.

It seems as though everything is fine when the culprit-
cancer,
diabetes,
AIDS,
creeps in, uninvited and steals the soul from the body of our
mothers,
fathers,
sisters,
brothers,
lovers.

Or perhaps the crime is not premeditated,
a drunk driver,
an unnamed bullet,
or an unseasoned pilot may be the defendant.

No matter how the theft is committed, the robbery affects people in ways
that are only understandable once you’ve been a victim.

I remember my days as an observer at the scene of the final viewing of what
the criminal had left behind. I thought, “Could the loss be this tremendous when only yesterday they were laughing and joking about the way things used to be before the thief perpetrated the crime. Now here they are
crying lakes and rivers,
falling down at the sight of what’s left,
screaming and hollering at the top of their lungs,
and at times,
passing out completely.”

All week long, folks had been over at the house, bringing homemade
German Chocolate cakes and
frying spicy Southern style chicken for all the family who would be
in and out
during that time. And everyone seemed content as they sipped on tea
or ate plates and plates of collard greens and potato salad that the lady
down the street had made.

Once that day has passed, the food stops coming
and the company stays at home. I used to think mourning the loss was over at this point, but when heart disease came and took my loved one away, I learned that here is where it begins. The initial news headline brings some sadness, but the days in between then and that day are packed with so many
pork chops,
“I’m sorry’s”,
and “I remember when’s”
that there’s hardly a moment to allow
one salty drop to trickle down the face.
It’s for this reason that there’s such a release on that day.

The loss is overwhelming, making legs too frail to support body weight,
causing one to breath rapidly,
sending one into a panting rage
or just forcing one to the floor with no control of voluntary muscles.

Then it’s finally over and no one is there any more. Now there is free time to sit and constantly dwell on
the crime
that has affected your life.

All of those people who came over and said how much they loved you
and how much they’d help out anyway they could, aren’t around.
Instead you are there to hear the voice that is not calling,
feel the touch of the hand that is not touching you,
or see the body rocking in the chair that no longer sits there.

The reality of the loss has started.

Alpha and Omega.

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