Married Mallory

One of my very best friends over the last 15 years or so, Mallory, got married a week ago today. Here are some pictures of mostly the bride at their winter wedding!

From one place to another

Death is one of two things...

Either it is annihilation, 

and the dead have no consciousness of anything;

or, as we are told, it is really a change:

a migration of the soul from one place to another.

- Socrates

I have too much experience with the annihilation kind of death for only being 23 years old. When a conversation turns to people dying, I can hold my end of the discussion all too well.

When I was 12, I watched an 18-year-old guy fall nine floors off the balcony of the building my family was staying. He fell from room 906 and I was on the balcony of room 406. He swooshed past me and landed with a thud in the sand below, motionless. I watched without flinching as the police were called, the tarp covered him, and the medics pronounced him dead. 

Three months later, I was at a car show with my dad when a driver lost control of the jet engine car he was driving and it crashed into the side of the track, bursting into flames. The fire department took 30 minutes to respond so we all stood in the stands, watching the flames, knowing there was a man burning to death.

Throughout high school I had several friends, acquaintances and classmates die from car crashes, brain tumors, suicide and freak accidents. Even more passed away from drug overdoses after graduation. I remember that the number of deaths around me was past 20 when I turned 20. It's morbid that I even thought to count. 

Maybe it was the rapid-fire series of deaths in my life, or maybe I was too young to see it, but I found no hope or rest in any of these deaths. Only abruptness, emptiness, questions of why or how.

Even watching my grandmother's and mother's best friend's battles with cancer seemed like annihilation when they eventually passed away. At least to me, it was too soon.

My grandfather passed away Monday morning.

He had suffered with Alzheimer's for about four years, had a stroke the weekend after Thanksgiving, and eventually stopped eating until his body shut down.

My mom and sister were with him. And for the first time, I find nothing but peace in his passing. He was ready to go, and by the time he left he was only a shadow of his former self. He had made his wishes surrounding life support very clear, and hearing Monday morning that he was gone was only something to rejoice. If nothing else, he now joins my grandmother and uncle wherever we go next. What sweet reunions those must be. 

To be mad or upset about his passing would be selfish. I'm only sad that my mom lost her dad. I now understand the cliche sayings of "He's in a better place now" or "He's at peace." Because, for once, I really believe them. He lived a good life, and it's encouraging to see that living well leads to dying a happy death. It's inspiring, really - to make sure I'm living well, too. 

This weekend we'll celebrate his life. A life full of love and joy, and the occasional obscenity yelled at an Ohio State football game on TV.