Death is something that doesn't process well for me. And I'm sure most people feel this way, but I can only really speak for myself. The idea of it is something I push out of my head. And when I'm forced to face it, I cry sporadically for weeks. The last two weeks, unfortunately, have been no exception.
This week, however, I read a post that jolts me in a more positive direction every time that I read it. Every year I see this post, shared from a friend on an anniversary of sorts, and it wrecks me, tearing my heart wide open while simultaneously inspiring me. It jolts me by reminding me how fragile our lives are. By putting me into a fit of tears in a parking lot. By reminding me that I don't tell people I love them nearly enough.
I've written twice so far about how much I love those in my life - once about my brother, and once about my friends. But after the last 107 weeks, it's clear that literally everyone I know could use a little more love, and a little more understanding. It's clear that celebrating someone once a year is not enough.
I think that we so often forget how fragile life is. I certainly do, at least. I forget how easy it is to fall back into the pattern of complaining about work, silly drama with friends, hang nails, or worse, hangovers. Things that really mean nothing when you look back on them.
Honestly, I write this now mostly as something I can look back on later and remember. This life we live is so fragile and unique, and we take it for granted every fucking day (sorry for swearing, Dad, but it's true).
These last few weeks have forced me to feel grateful. It is in such great loss that I must practice such colossal gratitude. I have been to more funerals than my parents in the last ten years, and I have felt more loss than most 60 year olds today. So many souls from my hometown have endured the same.
It almost always seems that we wait until it's too late to express this kind of gratitude for those in our lives. We have so many stories of those whom we have lost. So many more smiles that I know we could have all shared. So many "On this day..." reminders from Facebook and Instagram of pals gone too soon. So many renditions of Crazy Game of Poker on Christmas Eve that we now are forced to go without. So many laughs that we now have to share through tears on anniversaries of the greatest losses. I never think to thank someone for their existence, until I am pleading for it to continue, while knowing it is far too late.
And I know that those I have lost have somehow taught me to feel the most joy in my life. To spend time bringing a bagel to a grandparent who no longer recognizes your face, to take the time to have "no bullshit talks" with friends, to always smile when we're with those we love, and to acknowledge the exact moment when a friend becomes family.
And I know I've said this before, in both writing and in person, but I have to say it again.
Thank you:
To those I work alongside. Who in so many ways know me better than anyone else. Who know my passion and know my apathy. Who feel my sadness after a tough day, and really understand it. Thank you for always allowing me to be my best self, and my worst.
To my friends. My people who listen to me vent, laugh at my jokes, trust me in my moments of confidence, help me grow, and tell me to grow the f*** up.
To my family. My family who stands by me despite genetics, and those who choose to become family despite sharing none. I was raised in a home where family was so strongly defined by the latter group, and am so grateful for that definition.
To anyone going through something that might make them question their value. I am so sorry that life has brought you to this point. And I cannot tell you how you feel in this moment, but I can tell you that some day you'll be ok. Some day you will get to share an instagram story (or whatever social media trending then) about how you felt this exact way, and somehow didn't act on it. And someday someone who loves you more than you know will write something like this, in an attempt to explain just how much they love you.
Please, live to see that day.
See you then,
Caitlyn
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