The One With Smoke Gets In Your Eyes

"But ignorance is not bliss, only a deeper kind of terror.” - Caitlin Doughty, Smoke Gets in Your Eyes: And Other Lessons from the Crematory

2019 was a lot of things and while I may not have gotten smoke in my eyes from working in a crematory I certainly learned a lot of lessons. 2019 was gritty and timid. 2019 was murky and pure. 2019 was Yin and Yang.

2019 was a death-heavy year. Right from the start, after the unexpected passing of a client, I was being taught to live in the moment and in such a way as to have no regrets. For the first time in my life, a death had left me feeling resentment. Resentment at my own selfish feelings and then resentment at not having the kind of closure expected in order to move on. I said goodbye in my own way and made peace with the situation, eventually. Now, when I find myself frustrated in certain work situations I remind myself to love and extend grace because the future is never certain. Easier said than done though, for sure.

2019 continued with the death lessons when, in one week, my pack of people grieved three of our own. The last of the three was my uncle who, on Mother’s Day, joined his mama in Heaven while surrounded by his family in much the same way as those before him went. These deaths taught me that we die much the same way as we live. How am I going to die? Well, let me first look at how I am living.

2019 brought the hardest death lesson to date. Saying goodbye to my Dharma Bear was a descent into the unknown. Forcing myself from every thought that I would one day part ways with her was such an injustice, to both of us. It was an injustice to her because even in the final moments I refused to accept that she was dying. Although I pray she felt nothing but love as I saturated her fur with tears as we shared a final cuddle, I should have been more prepared. Even if only prepared to accept it. It was an injustice to me because had I been able to accept it I would have been less terrified at the thought of moving on without her by my side. This goodbye taught me that there is justice and comfort in being prepared to accept the unknown when it comes.

Towards the end of 2019 I read Smoke Gets in Your Eyes: And Other Lessons from the Crematory. In the book the author, now a licensed mortician with an alternative funeral practice, argues that our fear of dying warps our culture and society. She also offers better ways of dealing with death and our dead. Although my thoughts on death did not necessarily change, they became deeper and more meaningful from reading and discussing this book with my best friend. My prayer is that these deepened beliefs will continue to aid in the preparation and acceptance of death when it comes for those I love and then finally for me. 

Thanksgiving 2019 was as fiery as it was memorable. Suffice to say; remember not to leave a stick of butter to soften on a gas stovetop.

Last week there was a house fire across the street from my office. I couldn’t help but think of the family’s suffering as they stood outside on the lawn while we all watched the fire fighters spew water on the flames as smoke filled the sky. Now, when I drive by and see the blackened pillars and debris I am conscious of the fact that my eyes, much like that house, suffered a lot of smoke this year. Through the suffering, and with the support of a dedicated few who helped reinforce the pillars of my life, I was able to salvage the burnt debris of my being. I came out of the fire more confident, more accepting and more thankful than ever.

With the sound of glasses still clinking with cheers to 2020 in our ears may we look forward to finding humility and bliss in the coming year. And here's to not leaving a stick of butter on a gas stovetop lest you will get smoke in your eyes.