And The Band Played On

We drove to New York this weekend to bury Carol's brother Sarge's ashes.

I am beginning to think closure does not exist. I am beginning to think that healing doesn't happen.

I think we humans, out of desperation, overuse these words and cling to them in a desperate attempt to make sense out of life.

The first image at the cemetery that staggered me was seeing Wayne carrying Sarge's ashes under his arm in the burial vault.

Carrying his brother to his burial plot.

Profoundly sad.

There was a short service and then the small plot was uncovered, Sarge's ashes were placed down in it and we were invited to drop shovelfuls of earth into his grave.

Watching Cori, Carol and Wayne wield that shovel was overwhelming. I cannot know what was going through their minds but I can imagine the suffocating emotion that consumed them.

When it was handed to me it became surreal. I looked down into the grave trying to burn the image of his partially covered vault into my head but it was like being on acid. My head and my emotions were spinning.

As hard as it was to do and to witness, it made Sarge's burial more intimate and more real.

When we were done, Pat - Cori's bother - went to his truck and came back with a PBR, which he placed in the grave as well.

Perfect.

The headstone was perfectly personalized with a race car sporting the number 86, which Sarge had on the side of his demo derby cars, as well as the letters PBR on the hood.

It also references the date that Sarge and Cori were married. A very meaningful and emotional touch.

Sarge died on December 16, 2014. We buried him on July 11, 2015.

Kevin died on  March 14, 2015. We buried him in June.

Jonathan died on December 17, 2014. I spent the night with my brother a couple of weeks ago and he took me by the grave-site where the headstone had recently been placed.

Each of these occasions was like re-opening a fresh wound. All of the pain and sadness came back; all of it.

I don't think we heal when profound sadness invades our lives. I think we adjust.

I don't know what that adjustment is. I suppose it is different for each individual involved.

Dropping earth into Sarge's burial plot rocked me. It was so intimate. My mind is still reeling in a way that feels like when it settles down my perspective will have been immeasurably altered.

I am speaking from a point of view that is somewhat removed. For the fathers and mothers and sisters and brothers who have been touched by these deaths I can only imagine that their grief and disbelief is ten times my own.

They don't deserve it.

Life goes on.

The best we can hope for is to learn from these premature deaths and adjust our lives and perspectives in a way that allows us to treasure life and family and love with the magnitude they deserve.

The strange thing about being human is that even with all this pain and loss it is easier to settle back into pettiness than it is to value life.

This is a time for rising above.