Umair Syed

“There is some information that is too delicate to be passed on, shared, slid, conveyed, announced, or confided to anyone. Some news has a hard shell of grief and needs to be broken. Different degrees of difficulty mar the acceptance of a terminated relationship with a lover, employer or even a friend, but with time it sinks in. Death is different. Death is both hard to accept and quite unacceptable. Brede talks no more, and the loggers and I hold few reservations about proselytizing our perspective. This is different. More delicate. Will you allow me to break some news?

Can I tell you what I think?

Mere acceptance is an imprecise response to death. How do you believe that someone who was is not anymore? What really is gone? Their ability to chat or respond to correspondence or circulate air? The sound of their laughter, their raised eyebrows over a lowered newspaper, the warmth of their touch, the light in their eyes, the wrinkle in their smile, the salt of their tears? Of course! But how will the fact of them ever go? They were. They talked and giggled and sulked and tripped in public. They were kind, thoughtful, charitable, reliable and fun! Uh oh, but these silver linings are also bordered by a little dark cloud. They could be rude too – bitter, abrupt, cruel, distant, annoying, frustrating. You even had fights. But why waste time in overcast plains? All things they were, you are too. They suffered from life as you do, and they even told dirty jokes now and then.

And now some bold claims. The only thing to really accept is that life has no purpose. Feel this from the depth of your being, carve it into your bones, pour it into your cavities, etch it on your liver. If life has no purpose, then existence requires no justification, then non-existence requires no acceptance. Yes, you no longer have access to many things about those who are gone and the space they hold in your heart shall never house new tenants (but don’t forget there’s all this other space too). Acceptance of death is an antidote to grief. Grief is making someone else’s existence about you. Fuck grief. Isn’t it better to think of those you love as you wish to be thought of? Exalt that little place in your heart, coat it with love, redecorate sometimes, get some fun throw pillows and maybe a nice lamp and an expensive rug. Warm it with gratitude. Love them. And, if you really, truly care, live in a way they would have loved you to.”
― Kanan Gill, Acts of God