According to the saying, we can all expect to pay taxes and die.� Despite my constant mantras, death has not been a large factor in my life (to date, that is).� Iapos;ve known people who have been surrounded by dead and dying people even before they finish high school.� Many of them are grim.� All of them carry an air of sadness regardless of their actual outlook and attitude in life, and rightly so.� With so many carefully grown bonds suddenly yanked away in a decidedly permanent fashion, you would be to.� In a manner of speaking, when one dies, a part of their loved ones die, as well.
With so little death in my life, youapos;d think Iapos;d have some kind of optimism that says weapos;re pretty damn invincible, and to be honest, I think some of that is there subconsciously.� The pessimist in me keeps me from being overtly so, however, because the fewer people who die as I age means that many more people (and a higher concentration of such) who will die in my future, assuming I donapos;t go before they do.� Yet even that kind of expectation wonapos;t prepare you for when it really happens, as Iapos;ve so recently discovered.
While death hasnapos;t been a large factor in my life, itapos;s still been a factor.� Iapos;ve had to deal with the death of a few people, and their deaths have had differing effects on me, some humorous, most serious.� Hereapos;s what Iapos;ve had to deal with so far
Joyce Williams (c.1986): I canapos;t remember exactly when my grandmother on my dadapos;s side died, but I think I was about four.� Maybe five.� From what I gathered from stories, she died of complications with diabetes.� I remember walking around a hospital on Roswell (I think it was Roswell) and sleeping at a hotel in said city, then I remember the family gathered at a box-like hole in the ground.� I had no idea what was going on, and it was a few years later that I learned matter-of-factly that she died.� I have no other recollection of her death other than I thought that Bugs Bunny was going to rise up out of the hole in the ground playing an upright piano.� He never did.� Still, in hindsight, it looks like I would have a highly active imagination.� My memory of grandma in life was one of a tough little woman who beat her grandsonsapos; asses when they shat in their drawers and was otherwise a nice person.
Leroy Williams (May 1993): Grandpa followed grandma years later.� He died of a massive heart attack, and I remember hearing that he went down quickly, which is a comfort to his children.� I was in sixth grade at this time.� In fact, he died a week before my spring final exams.� I think my family thought me to be cold and uncaring about the whole ordeal.� I just couldnapos;t mourn in front of them.� When my stepmother came in to tell us kids what had happened that morning, my brother and sister bawled up a storm while I sat there looking depressed (as I usually did).� I didnapos;t find it in me to cry until I was taking a piss after breakfast.� Grandpa was a little more involved in my life.� In fact, he lived in Carlsbad a few times during his constant moving around after Grandma passed away.� I really was sad to see him go, but it just didnapos;t seem like a huge deal to me.� I didnapos;t understand the importance of relationships, and in hindsight, this perfectly illustrated my lack of understanding.� After my mother pointed out a few similarities between me and papaw, I kinda wished he was still around, or that I had paid closer attention to those around me while growing up.
Father of Don Robinson (2001): I didnapos;t actually know him, but you donapos;t have to know somebody to be affect by their death.� Now that I think about it, I donapos;t remember if it was his father or his father-in-law.� The way Iapos;ve noticed in some marriages, it really doesnapos;t make much of a difference.� Anyways, Don Robinson is the pastor of College Heights Baptist church, which I had been attending regularly for a couple of years after joining the ranks of Christianity.� When his death was announced to the church, it really didnapos;t dawn on me who it was, but I felt compelled to go to the memorial service because they needed choir singers, and I was a choir member.� The service conflicted with a class, but Dr. Almes was also a member of the church, and he let the service cut into his class time so he could attend the service, as well.� It turns out that it was the guy who counted attendance at the Sunday night discipleship training.� In my mind, he was a sort of mainstay of those nights, when he would come in and have us sign an attendance sheet.� Now, he lie in a casket, and the people around were none to pleased at that fact.� The next time I went to discipleship training, the weight of his death really impressed itself on me because he didnapos;t come despite unrealistic and unconscious expectations.� His wife was pretty much inconsolable.� Donapos;s wife was much beside herself.� Don himself looked like he was fighting the urge to fall to pieces in front of the gathered people and was having a difficult time of it.� It was impressed upon me that day the gravity of death, especially the death of those you love.� I almost ran from the church that afternoon.� It was a lot to ingest, not having really known such weight.
Meghan Gill (March 26, 2002): I didnapos;t know Meghan, either.� She was well-loved by many on campus, as I understood it.� One of my biggest regrets was that I never did.� I saw her around campus, eating with her friends in the cafeteria, singing worship songs down at Peteapos;s with her guitar, at random places going to class, waiting for chapel to start.� What got me was that every time she looked at me (and there was eye contact), she looked as though she were pleading for help.� From what, I donapos;t know.� I would learn that she took it on herself to help bear the burdens of other people so they could get through their hardtimes, but nobody could recall when they helped her in return.� Itapos;s believed that whatever burdens she carried, they drove her to take her own life.� She tried a few times in the dorms with pills, and Wayland kicked her out.� The BSM director at the time, Donny Brown, took her in.� I believe it was his first year at that post.� His family cared for her, but this wasnapos;t enough for her.� She hung herself in the middle of the night, and Donnyapos;s wife found her lifeless corpse the morning after.� The campus was utterly shocked.� Iapos;ve never seen such a wave of depression hit the school like that before or since.� Fortunately, Easter vacation was the following weekend.� People got to go home and wrestle with their fears, doubts, and so on at home with their families and friends without the pressure of school.� What got me about this was that I knew she hurt.� I knew I had opportunities to try and get to know her.� I knew that I could have an impact on her life, and who know where those waves wouldapos;ve gone.� However, all that will remain unkonwn, because I was too afraid to step out and speak to her.� Her pleading eyes haunt me.� Meghan represents missed opportunities, and Iapos;ve a lot of those.
(Please note that I do not blame myself for her death, simply that I had not done what I believe I should have done when I had the opportunity to do so.� She may well have killed herself anyways.)
Calvin Sessions (February 2007): Grandpa on my motherapos;s side this time.� Well, more like stepgrandfather.� My grandfather on that side I assume had the last name of Smith.� No idea whatapos;s become of him.� I donapos;t think I even bothered to ask, actually.� So, through the dilligent searching of my mother, she located both my brother and I around eighteen years after she and Dad divorced.� This sparked a big little reunion the following summer, and my mother has been a very happy camper to be back in touch with her eldest boys.� I learned nice little facts like how I was supposed to be named Christian instead of Christopher, and I saw pictures of my newborn self with tubes sticking out of me because the doctors thought I had spinal meningitis.� I didnapos;t know Calvin really well.� Every time I visited, he would be in his comfy chair smoking cigarettes and watching westerns whenever he wasnapos;t asleep.� If I remember correctly, he was eventually claimed by cancer.� When I met him, his health was already in decline.� What I got from his death was how the actions of other people affected oneapos;s own life.� I never really knew grandpa because Dad took custody of me and Corry, and for whatever reason we denied contact with our motherapos;s side of our family until after we had grown up.� My life would have been radically different if Mom had been a part of my life.� Instead, Iapos;m in the ruts Iapos;m in without a real understanding of the torment my half-siblings and grandmother went through because I never really knew them until recently, whereas they had a great many years with him.� I mourned for what could have been but never was.
Samantha Stephens (October 4, 2008): Of course I would come to her.� I had already posted my initial reactions to her death in my previous post.� This is the first death to really hit home to me almost immediately.� The first to be really personal, and not on some sort of ideal that comes to mind a few days, months, or even years later.� She moved to Waco over a year ago.� Without the contact that I had when she was in Plainview, and with my stunning ability to not keep in touch with anybody outside of the general community I live in, the blow her death dealt was softened somewhat.� Still, she was one of us.� Someone I was around and in some ways grew with.� I continually contend that my friends constitute my family outside of actual family because itapos;s very true.� My friends are people who stick closer to me than any other relation Iapos;ve had, and it has been through their help that Iapos;ve grown into the person I am today.
Sam was buried last Thursday.� I was one of the pallbearers.� I donapos;t know how many other people can say they carried a friend to their grave.� Morbid, yes?� I made myself go to her funeral.� It wouldapos;ve been much easier to stay in Plainview, work, and give a presentation in class that Iapos;ll instead give tomorrow.� But the whole ordeal was very surreal.� I couldnapos;t believe she was dead.� I had to go so that when they opened the casket, I could be certain she was gone (kind of a Schrodingerapos;s cat thing...damn you, science).� Itapos;s difficult to talk her death because itapos;s painful.� But those of us who are still alive, weapos;re still alive, and itapos;s our charge to live.� And live, we shall, until it is our turn to go.
Samapos;s death represents the importance of relationships.� As another person blogged, that is the lesson she brought with left us with.�I will share about this more in the next post.
department of labor wage statistics, department of labor wage rates, department of labor wage determinations.
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