Learning The Most

I know with death, there is always a lot of confusion, wonder, and questions. There are a lot of thoughts and feelings that plague our hearts and our minds. We put a lot of pressure on ourselves when we tell ourselves (or when someone else tells us) that we have to get over it and move on. And we often overlook the fact that there is an alternative exit strategy to "getting over it", and that is to get through it. Some circumstances are not made for getting over...those are the ones we have to get through. And as bad as it sucks, and as painful as it is, getting through it requires a strength that you never knew you had, and one that you will learn to never let go of. It's empowering, really.

Life is short. We know that. Our days are numbered. We know that, too. It is so unfathomably unfortunate the way that gets put into perspective sometimes. But they are there. Those circumstances. No matter if they are expected, or come out of the dark and set your world on fire. They are there. And then pain consumes us, and we don't know what to do. So we are forced to grieve.

We all have our own way of grieving. Some of us cry a lot. Some of us sleep and withdraw. Some of us turn to others for support. Some of us consume things that make us forget momentarily. Some of us are seemingly selfish in our search for answers, demanding we get them, no matter how much it hurts others to give the answers. Some of us sit idly in denial. Then there are some of us that celebrate. Yes, you read that correctly. I said celebrate.

Lee was in a pivotal chapter in my life. I am honored to have known him, and I learned a lot in that period of time when he was a constant in our group. But, if I am going to be 100% transparent, he taught me more after his departure from his Earthy life than he did when he was here.

Let me explain:

Upon hearing the news, I hung up the phone and immediately called, without hesitation, someone I trusted who would talk to me about it in an honest capacity. I haven't spoken to this individual in such depth, about something so intense, in well over ten years. It was an automatic response, and I followed through with it. It was at that moment I understood what that part of my life meant to me. How it impacted my life. How, my friends were not my friends. They were my family. How no one could ever replace them, no matter what in life got in the way.

Fast forward to the service... it took me a while to figure out how to put my thoughts into words on this. It wasn't even about the amount of people there. It was about who we were. We represented a live timeline of Lee's life. He was in each of our lives, serving different purposes for each of us. We all had stories, we all had memories, we all had... "a nice time" with Lee at some point in our lives. Hearing the stories, just wow. With every tear on every cheek, on every row and those standing... they told stories, they stained our faces with sadness as we traveled through time hearing those stories.

But looking past the tears... the amount of love, the amount of support, the amount of light that was present was moving. People who haven't seen each other in years were reunited. People met new people. People made new friends. We all made new memories. All of that happened, and was made possible, only because our eyes, our hearts, and our minds were opened to the fact that life is short. We realized this situation was bigger than our feelings. It was bigger than our thoughts, opinions, and our assumptions about what happened. It was bigger than our sadness.

It's about understanding that our fall-outs with people shouldn't define our entire experience with them on our journey. It's about understanding that some wounds won't heal, but they don't always have to hurt. It's about the scars, both literal and metaphorical, that serve as reminders of what has instilled the strength we have today. It's about realizing how many people would selflessly place themselves in your darkness, just so you wouldn't have to navigate it alone. How do we not celebrate that? How do we not bask in the realization that one single person could fill a room with 39 years of experiences that bring us all together with one common denominator...compassion? How?

Fast forward to the fellowship that followed the service. Only Lee could host the party (reunion) of the year without even being there. It was here that I realized how special my friends are to me. How I was reminded of why I consider them family. And it was there that I realized there was nothing anyone could do to get in the way of that. Ever. We were able to talk, and laugh, and cry together. I felt guilty for laughing, but then, not really. I felt more thankful for my journey in this thing called life, and the experiences that have shaped who I am today than ever. I hugged people with deep endearment, I smiled with confidence, and my love for everyone there was unwavering.

Then there was the "After party", where everyone continued celebrating downtown. To me, this was the most pivotal part of the night. It is where a lot of us started over, even if it was right from where we left off. This is where I learned, with conviction, what life was about. It is about saying yes to more experiences. It is about finding your purpose, and living it. It is about not holding back, not being afraid, and not letting your past get in the way of your future. It is about letting go of assumptions, and living in the moment. People deserve the real you. Be that version of yourself. It is about appreciating your roots. Meeting new people and making new memories with every experience, no matter how significant or insignificant. Learn to be happy for people's successes, not envious. It is about accepting that life is short, and that each day we spend not being kind to ourselves or others, living in regret, living with hate in our hearts, or living naively with the mindset that we have all the time in the world to do what we want to do, we are depriving ourselves of our purpose. It's about understanding there is always something to celebrate. Always.

We put so much pressure on ourselves to live up to expectations that we allow others to set for us. This experience has taught me so much about cutting those chains, and focusing on what I want for myself. You can have your picture perfect photos that took you three hours to take, just to get the perfect lighting and angle. I want the candid pictures of me and my friends with out heads thrown back in laughter, looking a hot mess in sweats, sitting around a fire, talking about life and how we have even made it this far. Because that is real life. And sometimes, I lose sight of that. I am pretty sure we all do. And then something like this happens, and we are slapped in the face with earth shattering reality.

So how do we become more mindful and aware of when we lose sight? Well, for me, the answer was unfortunately discovered through the death of a friend, which has relentlessly reminded of some very valuable life lessons:

People are precious, and the journey you take with them has value. Always.
Experiences are not to be taken for granted, and are meant to be shared.
Everyone has a purpose, and the responsibility to be kind, compassionate, and forgiving.
Memories are to be cherished and talked about. Often.
Plans are to be followed through with, not just talked about.
The impact we have on others is limitless, and lasting. Make it positive.
We are influencing people when we don't even realize it. Make it inspiring.
Appreciation for the small things is scarce. Let's bring it back.
And finally, family is not defined by DNA, and there is always room at the table for more.

I understand that Lee is no longer physically with us, but through this experience, his presence has never been so prominent.

Be the kind of person who's memorial would be standing room only.

Many thanks, and much love to you, Lee.


Beth

And to those of you who were closest to Lee... don't pressure yourself to be "okay". Just be you. Raw you. In time, you will feel a sense of normalcy. Until then, just know that your support system is big enough to fill a church.

The Note

There's no way I could express myself or talk about this because I could never make the illogic of suicide logical to those who aren't...me.

You will probably be so angry with me, and rightfully so. I am so sorry. So very sorry. You were there for me, and you were enough. You did enough. You loved me enough. This wasn't senseless. In fact, this was plaguing my mind throughout the day. Every day. You helped me fight. You helped me understand compassion. And you most certainly taught me about love.

You must have so many questions. Unfortunately, I have no concrete answer for you. That part is where I have failed most. I don't have the answers for myself either. And that is where I struggle the most. I didn't reach out overtly because I didn't need saving. I needed solitude. An intrinsic belief that my happiness didn't need to depend on others. You gave me moments. Glimpses of refuge that I longed to be able to give myself. This was not about worth, feelings of inadequacy, or lack of faith. This was about me battling a war within myself that I wouldn't wish upon anyone.

But please know this: My laughs were real. My smiles you gave me were real. My heart loved genuinely. I have you to thank for all of that. My world without you would have been apocalyptic. Everyone who was part of my journey gave me reason to want to see what could happen next. How many smiles I could muster up, thanks to an incredible community of friends. What you don't realize is that none of this was to hurt you. You, in fact, kept me going. You gave me life. But somewhere along the way, I realized that without you, I was lifeless. My smiles were masks, and I was outgrowing them. Then you would do the next incredible thing, and I'd realize life was about moments, not the memories that come from those moments. And, unfortunately, moments can also be grueling darkness, laced with fear and uncertainty about whether I would ever be at peace with myself.

It isn't fair to you. I know that. And there is nothing I can say to make it fair. I know that, too. But, and please forgive me for this, this isn't about you. It never was. I would never do this TO you. I did this FOR me. There's a difference, and trust me when I say I struggled daily with knowing I would cause you much pain. I hope you can learn to forgive me. I hope you will never be able to understand this. I wish that on no one. Celebrate your resilience. It isn't as easy as it seems to many.

I know I am leaving you, but understand that the love I have for you is immeasurable. I lost my ability to make sense of life, but you were always there, reminding me that trying was worth it. And though I grew weak from all the trying, I have no doubt the collective strength you unknowingly bestowed upon me will inevitably be the same strength that gets you through this. I envy that strength. I always have.

Thank you. So much. For being the golden chariots that so gracefully carried me through my war-torn world.

Farewell.