Laura

I was reading a post on another person's blog about how we don't say goodbye. It's sad, but it's really true. My wife (a Marriage and Family Therapist) talks about how terribly we (Americans) deal with issues surrounded by grief, and saying goodbye certainly qualifies. She tells stories of parents who use euphemisms when telling their children (and others) that someone has died...like "he went to sleep" or "we lost grandma." They're not sleeping or lost, they're dead...they won't wake up and we cannot find them again. [Tone = Sarcasm] But don't worry, American business gives you three whole days to resolve your grief and get on with your life. [End Tone]

Now, I'm not one to claim that death is the end...in fact, my extremely limited experience indicates that it most likely is not. That doesn't mean that I know what happens...it could be heaven, hell, or something completely different. (Well now, it would have to be something completely different wouldn't it? You are dead after all...that's different than being alive.)

All subjective postmortem issues aside, this whole thing leaves the living with the greater issues to deal with -- and what people don't tell you is that when grief isn't addressed, it can really screw up your life. [Tone = Sarcasm] I guess it's a good thing we get three days to get over it. [End Tone]

Anyway...I guess it's time for an explanation of the name of this post.

Laura was my best friend's little sister and was my wife's age when she died about 9 months ago, a victim of cancer. I say victim, because she truly was...she didn't do anything that would have made her high risk...she was just a victim. Of course she never acted as if she was...a few months before she died, I saw her at the reception her brother had after his son's baptism, and she was laughing and having a good time - even joking about the effects of the poisons the doctors had her putting into her body to kill the cancer. While I sat at her funeral, I couldn't help thinking about the time we all gathered to make tamales...or how we teased her about the gringo (me) who frightened her son, making him cry -- and that she really should have him around white people a little more often.

Now, I was never as close to Laura as I've been with others, so I'm wondering how it is that her death had such an impact on me. I'm sure it had something to do with her age and her family, but I also think it might have something to do with the unprocessed grief I live with (and I think we all live with too much), and fact that I've not said "goodbye" often enough...and I've not said "hello" or "how are you" often enough either come to think of it.

So if you're reading this, stop -- pick up the telephone and call somebody you haven't talked to in a while. If you can't call them, send them an email, or a letter, or something...and for your sake, start saying goodbye.