From kerriko@soda.csua.berkeley.edu Sat May  8 17:08:25 1999
Date: 22 Feb 1995 19:37:34 GMT
From: kerriko <kerriko@soda.csua.berkeley.edu>
Newsgroups: alt.gothic
Subject: Re: a serious Question

In article <3ibf50$p2n$1@mhade.production.compuserve.com>
QaT <75273.2444@CompuServe.COM> writes:

> Often, things occur in life that have a profound impact on the 
> way that you feel that you have no control over.  Things such as 
> the illness or death of a family member or someone very close.  
> You can't do anything if a parent or child dies.  You can't 
> simply "discard" the problem.

I'm not saying the problem should be discarded. I'm saying one should
eliminate the limiting factors, which usually (IME) living
relationships, or career-related. The key is living in accordance with
your OWN needs, desires, tendencies, and not by how someone else
defines you.

One should always feel free to discard another's expectations. If it's
worth it, make the compromise, but never relinquish your control.

With regard to the illness or death of loved ones, no, you can't do
anything about that. What you CAN do, and most likely what your loved
ones would prefer, is lovingly acknowledge that person's existence, and
don't let the loss ruin your life.

My best friend died two years ago and my SO and I had to leave the
memorial (which was being held in my house), because we were the only
people who accepted David's passage. We were the only two who could
smile, and remember the positive contributions of our friend.

I can't really describe my friendship to you, but I'll give it a shot.
I lived with David for a year, while going to school and working as a
temp. He managed our apartment building, and we often met at the
kitchen table at dawn, for coffee and conversation. On our days off, we
would start talking at six a.m., and inevitably we'd talk into the
early hours of the following day.

This was a wonderful, intelligent, introspective person. We shared a
lot of stories, and he took my most intimate secrets to his grave. At
his memorial, I recognized every single person he'd known, from the
histories he'd told me. 

His death was the first I experienced completely. He taught me a lot of
things while he was living, and I was exhilirated that this should be
the final lesson. 

That might sound a little flip. It isn't. I have "agreements" with most
of my familial elders, and I am certain their deaths will create
enormous voids in my life...but on the other hand, I am secure in the
affections we share, and I know for a fact that their deaths will
strengthen me...in a way I can't define.

When someone dies, remember them fondly and embrace the life around
you. My journals from David's death recall the most exquisitely,
explicitly beautiful things I saw and felt.

It doesn't have to be a bad thing, you know? Just look at things from a
higher, wider perspective.

When my father was killed, his mother planted a cherry blossom tree in
his memory, and scattered his ashes in the river near his birthplace.
When my step-grandmother died, her ashes were scattered in an untouched
flowering area, on a fire-scarred mountain. David's ashes have been
scattered in places far and wide, from the desert to the ocean to the
mountains, and often with the intrepid enjoyment he personified. 

You may think me sick, but I'll mix his ashes into my makeup on certain
occasions.

We watched Like Water for Chocolate the other night. Afterwards my SO
said he envied other cultures for their ability to just accept death
and the supernatural, accept death as not a necessarily negative
occurence.

Death doesn't have to be a sad thing. You can knock out your teeth,
wail, and blind yourself...or you can deal with it creatively and
constructively.

Cheers,

Echo