Our society barely recognizes the loss of close family let alone those who are our spiritual and karmic family. While people may impart their perfunctory expressions of sympathy, few know how to communicate accurate empathy. Only those of us who were closest to my friend know the vacuous chasm her death has created. We know we won't be getting over this in a few weeks, a few months, or even a year. Hard grief requires a long period of reflection, assimilation of memories, resolution of the good and bad times, and knowing we will never get over it but may at some point get used to it. Until that day, I have accepted my life will be shaped one day at a time in bereavement.
Everyone grieves differently. Some are sad, some are mad, some go crazy, and some die of a broken heart. I am reminded that when some animals lose their babies, they will carry their dead babies around for a period of time lovingly stroking them as they mourn. Most of us endure our lamentation silently and in private. The world we live in hardly acknowledges the reality of death let alone wants to discuss how pained we are at our dearly departed's passing. Quickly we encounter the covert and/or overt signals, usually delivered with honed etiquette, to cease the disturbing conversations when mentioning a grievous loss in public. This isolates us further.
Every morning since my friends shocking departure, I wake up crying. What makes this hard is that I am more of a thinking woman; this is not my usual way of coping with loss. I have no control over my sunrise melancholia, it just happens. Grieving does not give one the option when it strikes. Though my day gets less sad as I move forward distracted by my job, underneath my outward competency there lurks a prevailing despondency. These days seem surreal-like I am watching a picture of myself acting normal even though I am shattered.
Because my friend's death was sudden, she was taken by the medical examiner and her tissues donated per her request. I never got to see her again. This takes on an eerie quality that maybe she really isn't gone, though I know intellectually this is untrue. In honor of her memory, I set up a descanso, a shrine to her in my living room. Her picture graces my sideboard with tokens of things she owned: a statue of St. Francis, a crystal ball, a beautiful necklace, and a exotic Mexican beaded snake I had given her. Daily I light a candle for her so she knows what a light she was in this world. Sometimes I talk to her and tell her how much I miss her. Because of her Buddhist bent, I am also reading 'The Tibetan Book of the Dead' for her, as well as daily reciting the Phowa. These rituals comfort me during a time when I feel abandoned by her death.
Farewell my loving friend. You were a great source of happiness and joy in my life. Know I will never forget you.
