“It’s Just Going to Keep Happening” — Thoughts from a Hard Day
Had the displeasure of making one of the worst phone calls recently — calling an old friend to let him know that someone we both knew had passed away. At the funeral he mentioned: “It’s just going to keep happening.” Raw and honest, those words hit me like a brick.
He’s right. And in that moment, I don’t think I fully appreciated how true those words were. People are going to keep dying. And we’re going to keep seeing each other in these moments of loss — in funeral homes, church pews, or standing around telling old stories while blinking back tears. I hate it. I did not like it, Sam I Am.
I don’t like thinking about them — or myself — continuing to experience more loss.
It sucks. Plain and simple.
Losing someone cracks you open. Then, as if that isn’t enough, it rips open the memories of everyone you’ve already lost. Wowsers, indeed.
At this particular funeral, my heart hurt the most for the younger folks.
Boys left without a father at such pivotal ages.
That kind of loss leaves a scar that never quite fades. You can only hope they’re surrounded by love and support, and yes — that there’s at least some life insurance to help carry the burden financially. I didn’t sales pitch anyone (ew, that would be gross), but as someone who works in that world, I can’t help but think about it. Even just enough coverage to help with the cost of the funeral can make a world of difference when grief already feels like too much.
But I digress…
Life just keeps going, doesn’t it?
We pause, we grieve, we say goodbye — and then, somehow, we go right back to the hamster wheel. Back into the day-to-day of it all.
Loss is hard. Devastating. But we, the ones left behind, can’t let it drag us too far down. That’s the real danger of grief — it can pull old habits back to the surface. It can make you want to numb everything out, to self-medicate, to escape.
So, here’s a reminder to myself and to you:
That doesn’t work.
Shoving the feelings down, pretending they aren’t there — that won’t help.
The only way is through it.
Both of my parents were the last of their siblings. I can’t imagine how lonely that must’ve been. But they didn’t wallow. They were a special kind of tough, and they taught us that you never truly get over a loss. You just learn to carry it. Some days you’ll do great. Some days you won’t. That’s the truth.
So let’s remember something today:
People are out here doing the best they can.
Maybe today, you can give someone a little extra grace, a little more patience, a touch more compassion. We need more of that. Because, like it or not, none of us are getting out of here alive.
And that dash on the tombstone — you know the one.
The dash between your birth and your death?
That’s what counts.
Let’s go out there and make that dash matter.
Peace. Love. And Pickle Juice.
– Julie
Mothersense and Miscellaneous 