How Did I Get Here, And Where Is The Next Turn?

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Brought up Sep 20, 2012

Goodbyes, and Pain

Sometimes I wonder why we fear death as we do. As breathing organic creatures, all living things die. I think we fear the unknown. We have no idea what happens when a loved one takes their last breath or when we take ours. If one is religious, and believe in the soul, we then hope that soul lives on to another life, or returns to it's Creator.

When we watch a loved one suffer, struggle for just a little more time with us, it breaks the heart. Long illness can make them unrecognizable to us sometimes. In the end, we just want their pain to be over. I keep wondering which pain is worse: watching them suffer and struggle for a little more life, or having that life gone. I think it is watching the struggle. It crushes us inside. Seeing the person slowly leaving, we feel helpless, we try to make things easier for them, try to show them our love as much as possible just a little bit longer. We beg with our hearts for them to not leave us. None of us wants to say goodbye, because of the unknown. Soon, they reach a point where we want their pain to end for them, knowing ours will just be starting with their loss. Watching the suffering is the worst pain, but it is short lived. The pain of their absence lasts much longer. I think that is why we dread it. And, as we face our own ending, we dread the unknown and wonder if we will see those we leave again. If there is a soul, when their time comes to leave the mortal shell, we hope that living spark joins ours.

Last night, I watched the suffering of a dear lady, the BFF's mom. I don't know what was worse, watching her mom's pain, or seeing the pain on my friend's sweet face. I watched her go through the same thing last year when she lost her father. Just how much pain can one person take?

One of our friends joined us for a little while last night. As we stood outside the hospital talking, it occurred to me. All three of us had lost our fathers. I had watched my BFF loose hers, and her loss is still a bit raw. The Feisty One's father has been gone a while, and she spoke calmly, her pain faded. Mine? That's another story, for another time.

I long for my friend's pain to be eased, but, I fear, it is just starting.


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