Usually, I spend my birthday throwing back Hennessy shots, or wading in aquamarine waters. This year I attended a funeral viewing, and then watched the sun set amongst tombstones and mausoleums.
In less than two months, I lost two good friends of mine. Their services were in the same mortuary – in the same room mind you, and they were buried not too far from each other in the same cemetery. I mean, how fucked up is that? Have you ever heard a mother cry over the death of her child? There’s a certain tone in their wail that comes from a dark place in their soul, that literally hurts your heart to hear. Now imagine having to hear that twice.
Though I loved (love) Gail and Faye dearly, the circumstances in which they passed and the friendships I had with the two of them couldn’t have been any more different. I felt a mixture of so many emotions that whenever I tried to express any of them my mind went blank and my body went numb. Needless to say, I wasn’t in any mood to celebrate this year. My friends on the other hand were, and I appreciate them for that.
They say that death is hardest on the living, and I agree. But living a life that you love in the presence of those that love you, definitely makes it easier. So love carefully, but love hard. It’s the only way to live.
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