Still living

I had dinner with a friend and her husband tonight, along with their adorable baby, who I think of in my head as my adopted niece, partly because Ed isn’t around and will never give me any nephews and nieces, and also partly because my cousins and I are not really close enough for me to warrant spoiling their kids. We sat at the table, discussing life, death, and everything in between.

I told them that it doesn’t feel like Ed really passed; it feels like he is still around. When I am in our family’s house, it’s like he’s sitting at the table with me or in the other room, or just about to get home from work or karate or picking up some produce. My friend’s husband said, it’s because he still is there. Perhaps the way that we define “existence” is in the physical form, but who is to say that he doesn’t still exist? He is living in another way.

Maybe I feel him even more strongly now because he is no longer of the form that you and I know, but he has entered another type of existence where I can feel him even deeper, and he can feel me more, as well. And maybe because of this, I feel even closer to him, almost like we are always together because in mind, we really are connected.

Maybe all of the above is true. But either way, I still can’t help but miss him in this flesh and blood form of which I am aware. Maybe my missing him is selfish because he has left a life of pain and suffering and entered a cosmos of sorts where suffering ceases to exist. If I genuinely love him, I can’t possibly want him to suffer anymore. I need to keep reminding myself that he is in a happier place and form of existence than before. Otherwise, I will never truly find peace.

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