We often color a person as all good or all bad when they die. To grieve well, we must see the lost person in all of their complexities. We must express every wish, all the conversations that were never had. At least that is what a book I read said…
My brother is dead. I don’t wish to sugar it up with the phrase, “he passed.” I can feel his cord of life cut from this earth. His presence is gone from here. He is dead.
Randall is dead. This moment defined forever. Life will now be known as life before Randall died and life after Randall died.
Strings go down lines for generations. Our thoughts and words go through the generations. Your thoughts and words go through the generations. My brothers thoughts, his words they will carry on to his children.
In our autonomous society we forget how much what we do matters. We forget that our absence in the lives of others hurts them or how our words shape the lives of strangers and friends. People walk around all autonomous in their solo society. They forget that someone takes the trash, someone works the satellites, someone is always at work even as they sit thinking about how very alone they are.
Our very stature and yes I mean the way that we stand in a line has done something to someone at some point.
What we do infects others. It does. This truth certainly doesn’t mean we are not allowed to make mistakes. It does mean we matter. My brother didn’t know.
Rather you like it or not, you matter. I matter. He mattered.
If you would like to donate to my brother’s funeral, we still have quite a bit to raise. Even five dollars would be so helpful. The link can be found below: