Who remembers you when you’re gone?
July 30, 2007
Thank you for your condolences. It seems strange that it’s only been a week, that even though I’ve thought about him often, life just continues on. It’s not until I see the last email he sent me, printed out on my desk, that it hits me that I’ll never see him again. I’m worried for his family, and I hope his parents and sisters are ok. I know my parents have spoken to them a few times since last Sunday, but there have been just enough other things going on that finding a quiet moment to talk with my parents has been hard.
But life continues.
It’s one thing my dad has always told me when my life is crammed so full with obligations (including multiple part time jobs) that I’m frazzled, stressed and feeling like everything depends on me: “you think if you left they wouldn’t move on without you?” Sometimes I think that I am so central to everything in my life that if I didn’t yell at my brothers to unload the dishwasher, or ask my mom if she’s taken her medicine, or tell my sister to keep her stuff on her side of the bathroom sink, the world would fall apart. Of course it doesn’t. It never does.
However, even though life does move on after the death of someone close to you, I’d like to remember my cousin somehow. I can’t figure out the best way to commemorate his life. Every Christmas, our church asks us to donate money to buy a poinsettia in honour or celebration of someone. These names are published in the bulletin for the Christmas season. I would like to do that for sure, but that isn’t lasting enough.
My sister and I thought perhaps we could set up a bursary for a Nigerian student interested in IT at the local college, a college that Joseph had applied to go to and had gotten in, but due to the international student fees, could not afford to attend, but I’m not sure how easy it is to establish such a thing, and how it works, so I need to look into it.
Still another idea would be to set up a fund to help his family. Joseph cared a lot about his family, and his parents are getting older (his dad is my dad’s oldest brother). With the uncertainty that life in Nigeria brings, this might be the best idea–sponsoring them somehow from here to ensure that they can live long healthy lives. Sadly the best gift I can give them, I do not have the power to give.
If anyone has any good ideas on how to honour a loved one that has passed away, please share it.
Oh, Joomy. This is something I struggle with as well. In the grand scheme of things, a single person missing from this world doesn't mean too much. I remember after my grandfather passed away wanting to stand in the street and scream for everything to just stop. Just for a moment, at least. But I didn't and no one did.
I look at it in terms of *my* scheme of things, and in *my* scheme of things, a lost loved one is a huge deal, even if the rest of the world doesn't seem to want to stop and agree with you.
Greiving is an ongoing process. To lose someone so young must be many times more difficult, because you're not only grieving the life lost, but the life that could have been.
I wish I had words that would comfort you, that would make everything seem better. All I can really say is to take care of you and yours at this point. One foot in front of the other and all that sort of thing.
I'm thinking of you, My Dear Sweet, Wonderful Joomy. *Hugs*