To be honest, I don't remember much about my first experience dealing with death. I think the first time I really dealt with it would have been when my grandfather Mischa died. I was about two at the time I think. I don't have many memories of my grandfather and those I do have mostly come from photos and videos so perhaps they're false memories.
I imagine though that I had questions. Where was grandpa? How long would he be gone? What does death mean? I know my grandmother and my mother must have been very sad. I know that his death was very difficult and, at times, surreal for them. I know we had a memorial service and not a funeral (or at least that's what my memory says right now, but I could be wrong). I imagine there would've been a slideshow of some sort or at least photos around the room given how much photos mean to my family.
I know that, years later, I made an ofrenda for my grandpa for an assignment. I included one of his pipes that I think still smelled of tobacco (or perhaps that was just my childhood imagination) and a photo of him at his desk. This is the quintessential photograph of my grandpa in my mind (which is probably why I used it). I don't remember how long we kept the ofrenda up, but it was longer than the required time, that I remember.
Now it's possible that wasn't my first experience with death. There was an incident, that I believe came later, but I'm not sure, where I was walking with a friend and his mom. We came across some sort of dead animal (I believe a bird of some kind). I think it was a bit of a bloody scene because my friend's mom was worried how we would react. Apparently (though I don't remember this), I bent over it and simply said something along the lines of "Some animal's been munching down."
The first experience with death that I really remember is when a gym teacher at my school died. I don't remember how they told us--perhaps they left that for our parents to do. I do remember that the whole school felt odd though. There was a person missing, and, at a school as small as mine, that was uniquely felt. I know we had a memorial service for her in our gym. It was originally going to be somewhere else I believe, somewhere a bit more dignified, but in order to fit everyone we went to the gym. It was also considered, perhaps, fitting that we honor her where she had the most impact. I remember one student sharing a story that the teacher could make anything fun, even square dancing with boys. I also remember that we honored her with her long beloved phrase "Live, Love, Laugh." It was printed on our volleyball uniforms and, I assume, other uniforms years later. I think we also had a kind of memorial wall for her for a while.
There's much I can't remember about this, however. I can't remember her really being ill, though certainly at some point we were told she was ill and we likely did things like send her cards. I don't remember how old I was when this happened though I think I was at least in first grade. I also don't remember how I really processed it. Did I understand then? Did I feel it beyond her absence? If so, how? Did I make something for the memorial wall? Had I sent her get well soon cards or at least signed them? Did I talk to my mom about it? Did I talk to my friends about it? Surely, I must have done some of these things, but I don't remember. How odd that I don't remember more about this time in my life.
I'm not sure I've gotten any better at dealing with death as I've gotten older. Even deaths that I think should feel more distant, feel personal to me. Yet I compartmentalize very well and so I am able to function for the most part. Each death makes me think of regrets, though. Wishing I'd stayed in touch. Wishing I'd spent more time. Wishing I'd kept them safe somehow. I think this is pretty normal though.
What about you? What was your first experience with death?
(Prompt provided by Amelia Sacco)
Comments
Post a Comment