Grasping death: It ain’t easy

Posted by Zach Mentz on September 17, 2011 · 6 Comments 

Death. It’s an unfortunate truth, but it’s something that happens to all of us and it’s something we all encounter in life. Often times, it’s a subject that not many people like to talk about, and for understandable reasons. Why am I writing about death now though?

You see, last Wednesday, I woke up at about 9:15 in the morning to get ready for class. I checked my phone as soon as I woke up, and I saw that my dad had texted me. The text simply read, “Call me    important.” I wasn’t sure at all what the important news was, but I never expected to hear what my dad was about to tell me.

As I started walking to my first class of the day, I gave my dad a call to see what the news was. Upon calling him at about 9:45 in the morning, my dad informed me that my Grandma (his mother) had passed only a few hours earlier at about 1:30 in the morning. It’s safe to say I was caught off guard immediately. It took me a few seconds to regroup and respond, but after taking a deep breath and trying to stay calm, I told my dad I was so sorry for him. My Grandma Delores, or “Dee-Dee” as my brothers and I called her ever since we were kids, had passed away on Wednesday, September 14^th at the age of 84.

Heading to class right after learning news like that isn’t an easy thing to do. I tried to stay focused in class, but found my mind racing with thoughts as I tried to soak in the news. The most astonishing part of the phone call with my dad that morning was how calm he seemed to be. His mom had passed away roughly eight hours earlier, and yet here he was on the phone with me, calm as can be. He was completely composed, or so it seemed. Part of me is amazed at how calm he seemed to be on the phone, and the other part of me wasn’t so amazed. I know how emotionally strong my Dad is, but for him to have to deliver that news to me, his oldest son, it couldn’t have been easy.

I called my dad back later that day after I was done with my classes. We talked about the death of my Grandma Dee-Dee to more of an extent this time, as he explained what happened exactly and what the plans were from here. During our twenty minute phone conversation, there’s one thing that my dad said that stuck out the most. My dad will turn sixty-three years old in November, and he acknowledged that he might not have a whole ton of time left to live, as he’s dealt with his own health problems in recent years. Overall, he’s healthy, strong, and looks younger than most sixty-three year old men do. Regardless, he and I both discussed the very real possibility that he might not be around to see my eight year old brother graduate high school.

Back to my point though, the one thing that stuck out in our conversation was when my dad talked about death. He said that death isn’t something you should grieve over necessarily, but rather that after death is a celebration of life. Your family and friends shouldn’t spend time dwelling on the loss, but instead they should channel that energy into celebrating a life lived. He told me that when his time is done on this earth, he wanted me to make sure that there weren’t any tears shed for him because that’s not something he wants. To put it simply, he told me that after his funeral there’s going to be an open bar and a good time to be had, and the first person to shed a tear gets a kick in the a**. That made me feel a lot better.

In many ways, my dad is my best friend. As I set here writing this now, I wonder to myself: What am I going to do when that day comes? It’s natural for us to fear those inevitable days, but I think my dad knows that he’s taught me just about everything he knows, and that because of that, I’ll be fine without him. Death isn’t about mourning necessarily, but instead it should be about looking back on the good times that you had when that person was around, and you celebrate a life lived (or at least that’s how my Dad looks at it.). I think that’s a pretty good outlook though.

So yes, grasping death isn’t easy for anyone. However, if you’re around your friends and family, looking back on the good times had, celebrating a good life lived, it can make dealing with death that much easier. On that note, rest in peace Grandma Dee-Dee. It was a great eighty-four years lived.

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