Death, Doubt, and Fear

My Step-Grandfather, Richard, passed away two weeks ago.  He got up one morning, took the dog for a walk, and never came back. 


It's strange how death is so much less about the person that passed and so much more about all of us who are left here.  I saw the people around me in all sorts of states of mourning; sadness, anger, desperation, loneliness.  But no matter what we were feeling, we each had to play a role.  The fixer.  The supporter.  The basket case.  The over-reactor. 


In all our different roles, we shared our fear and our sadness.  And we shared a realization of the thin line between our life here and the mystery of the after.  Some of us had doubt, some of us faith, but we all had a reality-check.  Life ends.  Someday each of us will lose our spouses, family, and friends too.  And someday each of us will die...


There was this picture of my grandpa hanging above the urn.  He was posing for a photo shoot for one of the plays he had acted in.  He'd gotten it years ago has a humorous gifts from friends in the play.  I doubt he ever looked at that picture and thought it might end up hanging at his funeral someday.


On the day of the funeral, hundreds and hundreds of people showed up.  At one point, the line was out the door with people shivering as they waited to get in.  My step-grandma stood at the end of the receiving line looking tentative with my mother by her side.  One by one she exchanged hugs and words with the visitors.  Most she knew, some she'd never met.  Each of them had a memory to share; there own version of Richard that meant so much to them. 


Through all the crying, her eyes actually gleamed for the first time in a week.  This man that meant the world to her was still living on.  Through every life he had touched and every venture he had been a part of.


There's a lot of things he didn't do right, but there's a lot he did.  And everyone that visited just wanted to talk about the good, the funny, the happy.


In the aftermath that has since ensued, I've learned a great deal about this man I wish I had been closer to.  As stories, articles and pictures surfaced all around me, I tried to know him and define him by what I saw;  engineer, musician, actor, collector, father, friend.  But my list started to grow out of control;  stubborn, giving, understanding, difficult, brash, kind, opinionated.  Each descriptor and story seemed to contradict the last.  I wanted so badly to have a definition and ideal I could hold him up with. 


In the end, it seems he's like all of us;  Complex.  Full of wisdom and inspiration and well as contradiction and imperfection.  He can't be put in a box, labeled and judged.  He was human like the rest of us.  He was human like me.  And he will be remembered.