CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Word Count: 725
The Morning After.
The morning after a tragic event is always one of the hardest experiences for someone experiencing a heightened amount of grief, sadness and loss. It is less hard than actually finding out about the death of a certain individual, but is still difficult nonetheless because things have not yet changed. There has not yet been a funeral, a discovery of why that person is dead, nor has there been any form of counselling. There may have already been condolences, but they probably wouldn’t have had enough time to sink into the mind properly. To find out that someone, a person has known, someone they may have even loved, is dead, is a shocking, mind numbing experience that takes some time to get over, for most people. They have looked death in the face, and while it has not left them dead, it has left someone close to them, deceased and never to return. For the human psyche, it takes some time to get used to, the idea that someone who is familiar, does not literally exist anymore as a living, breathing being that can be touched, felt, spoken to and confided in. I say this in a broad, general sense of course, because the way people experience death, differs from person to person, sometimes minimally, and sometimes, quite largely.
I admit, at such a young age, when my parents died I found it somewhat difficult to deal with. While I knew they were gone, I couldn’t help but wish they were not dead. The difference between me and so many other people, however, is the fact that I realised this almost immediately, and soon moved on with my life. The thing that did not turn out well for me, however, was the fact, that really, I lost sight of the point of being emotionally multifaceted. While some people may have seen this emotional deadening as the one thing that did not turn out well for me, I have chosen, have always chosen, to see it in a different light. When I saw that my parents were dead, I became a more serious person, I worked harder, studied harder and learned faster. I had to, in order to survive in a world that would have much rather, in those early stages, whisked me off to foster care or into counselling. Fortunately, my aunt knew better. The thing that I am trying to point out, is that although I do wish that my parents had never died, of course I prefer that they had not died, I am stronger for it. The point that I saw soon after their deaths was that while I could mourn, I also needed to remember them, and become the better person I would have become with them, consequently, without them. I pushed myself ahead after that time, because I wanted to be the person my parent’s would have been proud of, had they been alive. I needed to succeed, I had to succeed, and I did, succeed.
The morning after a significant tragic event that involves death, is one of the hardest one any person can experience. I have been not so fortunate in that I have experienced that situation, twice in my life, when, really, I should have experienced it when nature took a more natural course, and my parents, my wife, died of old age or, even, disease. But, they didn’t, and, because I have loved them and they have loved me, I have become a better man in order to remember the people they once were, in life. Look down on this view if you may, but see this, I am a stronger person because I greeted death freshly, face to face, as a strong person. While I regret the deaths of my loved ones, I am stronger than I would have been, had I let grief and loss consume me. I am not saying that I am better because they are dead, no, no I am not. What I am saying is that in the deaths of my mother, father and wife, I chose to make myself stronger, instead of letting myself collapse and become weak. In their memory, I will succeed, I will work hard and I will be a good, strong person. Nothing, no horrible morning after or days and years following, can change that.