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In reply to the discussion: My brother just died of brain cancer. [View all]cherokeeprogressive
(24,853 posts)My Grandpa (the Indian) died one day while I was at work. He'd had a heart attack a week before and was in a coma for six days. He woke up with his Pastor by the side of his bed. My Grandma was down the hall in the bathroom. He touched his heart, took the Pastor's hand, and pointed to the ceiling. Then he closed his eyes and died.
His Pastor knew what a hard time it was going to be for me as I was his first grandchild and ONLY grandson. He was my fucking hero. When I was a kid he used to come to my house on Saturday just to pick me up so I could go to the auto parts store with him. He taught me to fish, hunt, fix my car, barbeque... a thousand things. More of a father to me than my own Father. I had three or four sitdowns with his Pastor before we buried him and one thing his Pastor said will always stick with me, as a good thing, even though I wanted to bust the guy in the nose when he first said it.
He said grief is a selfish emotion. We grieve for ourselves, and how we think our life is going to be without our Loved One in it. We have no way of knowing what's on the other side, and we knew our Faith was a winning bet, we'd be rejoicing at their passing because we'd know they were in a MUCH better place than we are.
At first, I sat there with tears running down my cheeks and my fists balled up. He was talking, but I couldn't focus on what he was saying any longer. I don't know when the change came but before I left the Pastor's office I had wrapped my mind around the fact that my Grandpa's death was one thing, and his absence in my life was another.
I was a trembling mess when I stood up in front of family and friends at his funeral to tell them about the man I loved so much. Of course I cried, but they weren't tears of sorrow, they were... for want of a better term... laughing tears. I was able to tell them about when we were in the middle of some lake with a rowboat and his little outboard motor when the wind came up, and we were both sure we were going into the water before we got back to the marina. He giggled his ASS off because he was so scared. Every big swell and wave made him giggle harder. His giggling made me laugh so hard I cried. I told them about one day when we sat on the side of a hilll in Utah deer hunting, freezing our asses off, and he told me naughty jokes all day. He giggled, I blushed, and I bet every deer within a mile was headed away from us. By the time I was done talking, everyone in the church was smiling, and I was laughing and crying.
Tell them about the good times. Tell them private things you and your Brother shared. Laugh.
When I walked to the hearse to carry his body to the grave, I felt cleansed of my anger and anguish. Thanks to the words of his Pastor.
Not much help, I know, but it's the best I have to offer.
I'm 50. I fear death. I wanna live to be 300 and He probably did too. His suffering is over now, and I'd bet that if He were anywhere near the person I know you to be, he'd have accepted what was coming.
I'm sorry for your loss steve. Metaphysical hugs coming from me to you. Big, hearty, pull you to my chest and squeeze the SHIT out of you hugs.
Chris