date: 10.02.2002
entitled: "Reaping the Grim Reward"

Living directly above a funeral home is not nearly as creepy as one would believe. In fact, the evidence of the establishment downstairs is astonishingly slim. There is nary a foul scent of embalming fluid, a sound of chapel organs grinding their hymns, nor the presence of any variety of spirits looming about. We will tread over a smashed funeral flower outside our door now and again, or witness family break time from the wake or viewing, and once in a while, we will step outside in the morning to find the hearse parked on the sidewalk, ready to receive its forever-mourned and beloved cargo. But generally, the building has a pleasant air to it. The hallway leading to our apartment door was even described once by a friend as possessing a �European hotel feel�.

This evening, however, I unlatched the door upon my arrival home from work and my weekly allergist appointment, only to encounter a terrible wailing sound seeping through a set of double doors, which lead into a viewing room. It seemed to be either a relatively young woman sobbing uncontrollably, or a howler monkey letting out its cry from deep within the jungle. This made me stop and cringe, as I imagined who could have possibly passed away who was so very important to this monkey-woman. At first, I envisioned her father lying in the coffin. But that seemed a little too unrealistic, unless they were extremely close, which I can�t fully relate with. Then I imagined it was her husband or her child who had passed, which, to me, would naturally cause a much more explosive response, such as was being heard. For some reason, I sensed it wasn�t her mother who had died. I slowly gathered my mail from the mailbox, and crept over to the double doors. I felt a need to confirm what I was hearing, so I put my ear up against the door. Sure enough, that woman was sobbing. I crept up the stairs slowly so as not to disturb, and turned down the hallway to my cozy apartment.

My therapist told me, in regards to a loved one, specifically a spouse passing away, that people who have terrible relationships usually have a much more difficult time coping with the separation brought by their partner�s death. This was in response to my paternal grandparents� relationship, which was plagued with extreme hatred, ignorance, alcoholism, abuse (physical, emotional, and verbal), disloyalty, and even blatant, loaded-shotgun death threats � it still amazes me how well my father turned out, given such a family environment. Since my grandfather�s passing over 6 years ago, my grandmother has plunged into an abyss filled with depression, anxiety, remorse, stomach ulcers, self-loathing, displacement, and disappointment in all her grandchildren. I recall overhearing her tell my grandfather she wished he were dead dozens of times while I was growing up. I also recall her rushing my sister and I out of the farmhouse occasionally, after he had come home drunk and violent. My therapist explained that bad relationships produce some of the strongest feelings known to human beings. Imagine it: you are so close with someone, share a bed, raise children together, make major decisions together, yet you are so far removed from that person, you regret marrying them, having their children, letting them bully you into decisions. You love and hate this person with equal intensity; you are completely saturated with feelings of extreme dissonance. What do you do? How do you cope? In my grandmother�s case, who is a southern Baptist, you do not divorce, but you become this person�s indentured servant. It is no wonder she is the way she is now. All those displaced feelings haunt her, day in and day out.

I am glad to be over 800 miles away from my family, as it gives me room to see things much more clearly. And I am glad I have Joe to love, freely and honestly. Whenever the day comes that one of us must pass our life energy on, I am confident that the other will be able to cope and heal in a positive way, resting in the fact that we were at peace with one another.

song stuck in my head:

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