I recently applied to a grad school program for death counseling/suicide prevention. That may seem a little dark to some folk, but the truth is IT happens, often & every day.
The topic of my entrance essay came up today & I was asked to share the important parts. I have been known to overcome my natural shyness & get long winded (worded?) occasionally.
Just a quick back story before we dive into it- when Dad started at K-state, he was Pre-Vet, but it was quickly apparent that wasn't going to work out & he was encouraged to take one of those personality tests that comes back with the field best suited to your particular skills & character, etc.....His results suggested either undertaking or finance, & I am not exactly sure how those are related. He ended up going with business finance, but maybe the death part was genetic?
Without further ado, a brief portion of my essay------>
My
dad, who is a pretty smart guy, always said that two things, maybe three were
certain in life; birth, taxes, and death. Growing up on a Kansas farm there was
ample opportunity to observe all three. Dad always made death a normal, though
sometimes sad, part of life. He would dig the grave, lead a lovely grave side
service, my brother, sister, and I would toss in handfuls of the dirt clods,
and then we’d go for a meal or ice cream- because misery loves snacks- and we’d
spend time reminiscing about the dearly departed, no matter how big or small.
The real winner was the year my brother learned to play the trumpet, and provided
a lovely rendition of taps for a goldfish’s burial by sea (toilet flush), which
worked out for all of us as it was a pretty chilly January day, and the ground
was very frozen.
Dad’s
teachings carried over to human funerals as well. Being part of a large family,
it was inevitable that there would be comings (births) and goings (deaths)
fairly often, once again the great circle of life. I began to notice that everyone grieved a
little differently, and in their own way. Some, very openly, and some not. Some
loudly, and some not. Some could accept
when a grandparent passed at a very advanced age with peace, while others would
barely be able to recover. Though, we all agreed that a young person passing
was about as horrible as anything could get.
I also
realized, that not everyone had had the same upbringing. Not everyone could
accept death as a part of life. And, thanks to modern medicine, and the
cultural shift in WASPY America, death is no longer so visible. Out of sight,
out of mind. Many people are no longer face to face with death until it’s
starring them smack dab in the face.
-----------TO BE CONTINUED----------
