These days I realize I reckon for the first time in a strong way with death.
When my grandfather died, her husband JJ, I was only five years, and the death was an abstract concept. A leave without possibility of return is very different from the reality of death. This is
can say that I was lucky, in twenty-five years I have never had occasion to think of death in detail. Or rather, I've often thought, I'm scared (the 'idea that my self, my precious ego, disappears one day I will cause panic to this day), but I've never had to confront.
And what I think is that death is only a state for one who goes, for those who remain is a process. Nothing earth-shattering, mind you, Freud 's put on paper a little less than a century ago. And the popular culture has always known. What are in fact the rites of mourning but a way to externalize and objectify this process in some way inside?
The period of mourning is something that modern society has forgotten, or rather taken with it from denying any role in his death our lives, decided to disappear. Yet I think it was immensely helpful. Because we all know that the pain of the death of a loved one does not end after the funeral, ol 'burial. Lasts very long, but on and off.
I mean, not that I have spent the past six days to cry. I would be untrue to say that. I laughed, joked with friends and family. Bed, watching movies. Computer games. In short, I lead a normal life. But at times I stopped, and I thought that given what I could not tell it to JJ, who at six o'clock I could not make the customary call evening. In short, the thought of his loss was not constant with flashes, I realized that my life must, must be, do without his presence.
For this to many friends (and thank you for this) that in these days I kimonos to ask "how are you?" I do not know what to say. Well? Evil? It depends.
depends on your point of view, depends on the monent, depends on the 'party. It depends.
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