Pet Peeve: Death Begets Stories of Death

So, my grandmother died a week or two ago. She died in the middle of the night between Sunday and Monday so I contacted my job to inform that I wouldn’t be in and to inquire about how the company handles bereavement. We are a small department so of course news spread quickly about what happened.

My co-workers have been offering their condolences and asking what happened. I mean, she was a million years old. That’s what happened. Death is a natural part of life, right? Actually, though, something in addition to old age was her undoing. She found out that she had cancer and had had it for a while. They thought it started in the breast and then spread all over. Cool. Telling people this makes them shrivel up like a prune anyway. Why are we as humans so interested in the gory details when we know it makes us sad? Not only did she succumb to cancer one month to the day that she found out about it, she was actually my legal guardian growing up. That fact makes everyone, basically, start weeping right before my tear free eyes.  Death doesn’t hit me like it does other ppl. Not anymore.
To add icing to my weird take on death cake, my sister and I are pretty much against funerals, so we didn't have one. Didn't even consider it. People still wanted to know if we planned to have a gathering or some such shit. Um, absolutely not. We will not be offering a buffet for muthafuckas we, nor my grandma, for that matter, hadn't seen in years. Thanks for asking.
I know I'm different and unorthodox in many ways, but come on!

One of my co-workers came to my desk and said she had meant to come over sooner, but kept getting busy. Fine. That’s fine. Thank you for your sympathies. Then, she proceeds to tell me about her grandma had cancer that was removed, but her grandma didn’t go to subsequent appointments to confirm her remission. Um, okay. Thank you for commiserating, I guess. She then went on to tell me that our former co-worker who had already had a fight with cancer now has cancer again. Yikes. She speculated that, “This may be the one to take her out. I don’t know.” Alrighty, Debbie Downer. Sheesh.

I got 3 bereavement days and on one of the days I went to pick up my new (ugly) glasses. When I got there the worker and I were chatting. She asked where I worked and essentially asked what the fuck I was doing there on a work day during normal business hours. I informed of my grandmother’s death and she said, “That’s been happening a lot lately. This guy I used to date died. Well, he killed himself.” Suddenly, I was the one offering overly enthusiastic, simpering platitudes with a horrified look on my face and proceeding to ask stupid questions. I don’t know how or why, but I asked if she knew if/who he was dating at the time of his demise. She said that she was his girlfriend at the time and that he committed suicide on Valentine’s Day. Holy fuck! What landmine have I unknowingly stepped in to??? I promptly screeched out, “Oh my God! How are you doing?”

How absolutely horrifying. I guess she needed someone to talk to because she told me how she felt that he had left her behind, how great he was, and how he was the whole package that any girl would want. (I plan to make a post about suicide and suicide ideation, but it requires more than a quick aside inserted in this post.) She was saying she had no inkling of his thoughts and plans of suicide and how she wished he would have talked to her. Because I am familiar with the personal demons associated with suicide and its surrounding terror, I found myself comforting her. Explaining that it wasn’t her fault and that suicide is a deeply personal thing that rarely has to do with any one person or thing in their life.

So, this is how I found myself comforting others on the heels of my own family tragedy. Sigh. We humans, boy. We sure know how to be altruistic in the face of our fellow man's hardships. Myself included.