I Went For a Walk

*Writer’s Note: I know I just posted a blog entry, but it was kind of lame, so I’m writing another. :)

So I went for a walk in a cemetery yesterday afternoon. It was really nice, actually. I don’t think I knew what I expected, but it’s very peaceful and quiet there, and was a very nice Sunday afternoon activity. I even felt the Spirit as I looked at some of the gravestones. I took some pictures and I’d like to share some of those here (*Note: none of them are people I know – if anyone who reads this who knows one of these people and would like me take the picture down, please let me know).

But it got me thinking. Our Western culture is not very good at dealing with death. This is clearly evident from the way it is shown in popular culture, and how funerals are conducted. Yes, we should be sad when someone we love dies. As God has said, “Thou shalt live together in love, insomuch that thou shalt weep for the loss of them that die (D&C 42:45).” But that doesn’t mean we should despair.

One of the hardest things I think I saw was something that hit close to home: babies dying. My mother gave birth to a little boy when I was 20 months old. His name was Andrew. He had complications at birth and only lived a few hours before he died. Losing a child must be so difficult. I don’t know how my parents got through that period of their lives. But I saw a few of those kinds of gravestones.

I don’t know which is harder: losing a baby right after the baby is born, or getting to have some time to know your baby, and then have them taken away, like happened to my friend a little bit ago.

One of the gravestones I saw that touched me the most was this one:

She was only 21 when she died, and had only been married 8 months. I feel so sad for her husband, that he lost her so soon.

But this one made me happy:

Look at the death dates. She died Jan. 31, 1916. He died a week later, on Feb. 7. I’d like to think he followed her so soon because he missed her so much and couldn’t stand to be away from her for very long.

One of the hardest things to remember when death confronts us is to keep the proper perspective. God can see the end from the beginning, and we need to somehow gain a portion of his eternal perspective. We need to remember that we can see that person again. The back of this headstone is hard to read, but it says this:

Friend and husband, brother, son
Some say his life had just begun
This playful spirit, joyful man
Keen of mind, gentle, grand

***

For he who sent him here is pleased
And when besought for his release,
By holy covenants which bind,
Said, “Send him home, he first was mine.”

We shouldn’t be afraid to die. Death happens to all of us. There is no escaping it. And we should not despair when people we love die. What we can and should do is pray for a portion of God’s eternal perspective, and be grateful for the time we had on this earth to spend with those we love.

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“I thank my God upon every remembrance of you.” Philippians 1:3

Rediscovery

I’ve debated writing this and putting it out there for anyone and everyone to read. Close readers of my blog know my feelings about all that kind of stuff, but I’ve been attempting to be more open. I think it can help me, even if there are some negative consequences…like sympathy. :)

With that said, I’ve been making new friends lately…and re-discovering old ones (mostly of the female gender). I think I’ve been a pretty poor friend in the past. Someone once helped me realize that when you have someone you love and who is very special to you, it’s not very appropriate to flirt and be alone with members of the opposite sex. And although I agree, and while most people would say I was justified in the way I’ve handled my situation, I wish I wouldn’t have let so many friendships fall apart / disappear over the last year.

What I’ve found, though, is that your real friends tend to be very forgiving about things like that. For which I’m grateful. And help can come from people and places that you never expected. Like when you go out to ice cream with the girl you dated briefly last year, and you’re both content being good friends this time around. Or when a teenager you hardly ever talked to two years ago suddenly becomes the person you confide in more than any other. When you find solace in writing a short story because a friend encouraged you to. Or when you feel you finally really connect with your boss and coworkers.

So I’m grateful I have good friends to soften the blow. But I like to think that I'm tough enough to take a pretty good hit. I think I can get over it – I’ll be able to move on with my life and be happy. But I think the hardest thing to get over is suddenly being just another person. To not be different from anyone else – not to be special. And it’s hard to know that she doesn’t care anymore. That the last phone call was just a courtesy. It was for me, not her – something she would have done for anyone. That my words and tears didn’t mean anything – that they didn’t touch anything inside her.

Bet you didn’t tell him
About those weekends at the coast
Or how we used to argue
About who loved who the most
Well I guess I won that one, cuz I still need you so
But to you I’m just someone you used to know

Like a friend, like a fool
Like some guy you knew in school
Didn’t we love, didn’t we share
Or don’t you even care?
I know we said we were through
But I never knew how quickly I would go
From someone you loved
To someone you used to know

It seemed like I was a fairy tale sometimes. I used to love randomly taking her in my arms in the kitchen and dancing with her, while I sang softly in her ear. Or when she’d lay her head on my lap so I’d stroke her hair while we watched TV… and then how she’d fall asleep like that, while I watched her instead of the TV. :) How she could practically read my mind, and how I felt like the luckiest guy in the world when she would cuddle up to me and move my arm so it was wrapped around her. How whenever I had exciting news, I wanted to tell her first. How she would kiss me with her eyes closed so tight. How on one day off, we planned to do something fun and outdoorsy, but I got sick, so she stayed inside and took care of me, even letting me fall asleep for a while with my head on her lap.

When Cinderella found the writer had appended
What did she do when the fairy tale had ended?
And the rain falls down, and I’m standing here with no umbrella again.

So what happened to my happy ending? Where’s my happily ever after?
Like I said, I'm sure I’ll be okay… I just don’t believe in fairy tales anymore.