Death: The mysterious ending to life that is everyone's fate. However, when you are young, it doesn't occur to you that it is really your destiny or the destiny of anyone you know.
I was sixteen, on a March evening filled with dense fog, when death became a reality for me. In the fog my friend, Joann, had lost control of her car on a familiar country road, her car crashed into a utility pole, and she had died. Someone my age, someone I had regular conversations with, someone who sat next to me in history class was dead.
An hour or so after I had heard the news of the accident, I walked out into the dark, misty night. I just stood still on the sidewalk in front of our house. The lights from the library across the street lit the spot where I stood. Where the light ended, the fog began. As I looked to the right and to the left, the fog slowly enveloped me. It was extremely quiet. I felt isolated and separate from the rest of the world. I wondered how Joann had felt in her car on that desolate country road. It seemed appropriate for death to occur on such a night.
The next day was Saturday. It was filled with bright, clean sunlight. I found it hard to believe that there had been a terrible tragedy the night before. My mom was cleaning our house; my dad was watching bowling on TV; my sister was playing with her friends. How could Joann be dead? Everything was normal.
That afternoon my friends and I went to see Joann's demolished car. I felt a sense of disappointment as I viewed it. My expectations had been to see a mangled, twisted pile of steel with massive blood stains in evidence everywhere. What I saw was a fairly intact vehicle with a caved-in driver's door. No twisting or mangling; no bloodstains (only some scattered rust spots which led to a few moments of speculation); no broken windshield. How could Joann have died in this car? My confusion over the reality of death was only heightened after the sight of such a benign car.
The next evening there was a wake for Joann. I went with my friends to the funeral home to view her body. At an earlier time, the funeral home had been a church and there were several steps leading up to the entrance. As we ascended the stairs, I could hear through the open doors the mourners reciting in unison. Not being a Catholic, this incantation was totally foreign to me.
When we reached the landing, the scene before me was completely overwhelming.
All of the people in the room were kneeling in prayer making it possible for me to see over their heads to the front of the room. There was Joann lying in a coffin which was surrounded by flowers. Joann was white, still, obviously dead. The reality of death gripped my soul.
I only took a momentary glance but all of my senses revolted. My eyes rejected the unfamiliar sight of my friend in a coffin; my ears heard the monotonous droning of a continuing and unfamiliar chant; my nostrils filled with the sweet, sickening scent of the funeral bouquets; my skin crawled with beads of sweat from the rush of adrenalin I was receiving. My mouth filled with the bitter taste of grief.
Turning, I pushed my way off the landing, down the stairs and into the night. My lungs filled with the cool, fresh evening air. The bony fingers of the death scene that had gripped my heart began to loosen their hold. The familiarity of the brilliant stars in the sky, the sounds of traffic in the street, and especially the warmth of a friend's arms around me, soothed me. That night I realized how fortunate I was to be alive and to be able to walk away from the reality of death.
Many years have passed since I was sixteen. But the memories of those days in March flash with crystal clarity in my mind. As the years go by and I experience the many stages of life, I realize how much time Joann really lost that night. Indeed every day is a unique blessing.
Grief and loss have touched me many times since Joann's death. The grief feels pretty much the same as it did when I was sixteen. What is different is that now I am an adult and, as all adults know, I no longer can turn and run from the reality of death. It is not allowed. I must stay and comfort; try to comprehend and reason. But inside, I am still that frightened teenager and, dear God, I really want to run.
