Feelin all the Feels.

Death, by definition, is "the end of the life of a person or organism." It is also the most common, inevitable loss that we experience as human beings. No matter the type of death- sudden, tragic, expected- or whom has passed- acquaintance, friend, parent, child- the pain is always palpable. At 31, I have experienced a reasonable amount of loss. I attended my first wake at age 12 for a family friend who tragically died of bacterial meningitis in her early thirties. I lost dear friends to car accidents in my late teens. In the past 10 years I have been to more wakes and funerals than I can count, but in many of these instances it was to support a friend or relative who lost a close loved one. Thankfully, I have yet to be the one standing in line receiving words and hugs of sympathy.

Friday morning brought an inevitable loss. My cell phone rang at 6:30 with the news that my grandfather, whom we know as Pepere, had passed away after a fall in which he broke his hip. In hearing this, I immediately let out a loud cry of "Nooooo" and sobbed intensely. Even though he was just shy of turning 90, I still felt it was too soon, too sudden, unfair. 

That's the thing about death... it always shakes you to your core. It forces you to reflect on your own life, your relationship with the deceased, and the people whose lives he or she impacted. My Pepere was "the best man in town"- husband to his beloved wife for 68 years, father to 8 boys and 8 daughters-in-law, grandfather to 21 of us kids, great-grandfather to 11 more. He was a sailor, a worker, a church-goer, and a family man. He loved fiercely, and he truly lived. He died peacefully, with a full heart and seemingly without regret.

Growing up, my father and his brothers did not always have a deep connection with their father. In fact, many of them were self-proclaimed mama's boys who viewed their dad as the rigid disciplinarian. Perhaps the most gregarious of the bunch, Uncle Rene, eloquently described his relationship with Pepere, "for years we simply traveled close parallel paths and the common bond we shared was an immense love for the same woman." I am not proud to admit that his death brought out some ugly emotions in me that I typically do not care to entertain. In this practice of catharsis, I hope to let go of the feelings that came to me so abruptly and forcefully on Friday morning.

The first emotion was regret- my mind tormented me with "should haves": I should have called him regularly, I should have saved his voicemails, I should have sent cards, I should have attempted to see him outside of the annual Thanksgiving gathering. The second similar emotion was guilt. Let me state for the record that my father raised us Catholic and has a strong faith in the Lord and prayer, and still his father put him to shame. Pepere was a devout Christian who prayed daily and specifically for all his loved ones. Let me now state that I am not Catholic or Christian- I only go to church on Christmas because I value traditions, I cannot recite a single verse in the Bible, and rather than pray I choose to meditate. So herein lies the guilt... deep down I knew my Pepere desperately wanted me to have a relationship with God, and I selfishly and subconsciously thought that if I kept a safe distance and less intimate relationship with him, he would not be reminded of my sins. The final emotion I experienced, albeit briefly, was jealousy. My dear cousin Tara was the only one with Pepere when he died. She was holding his hand and witnessed his last breath. She lives in Florida and her parents took my grandparents into their home to live when Memere was diagnosed with Alzheimer's. Tara has a huge heart; she loves with reckless abandon and maintained a deep connection with Pepere in her adult life. When she called me on Friday we were both overcome with emotion, but I doubt she could sense the subtle pang of jealousy that I felt towards her for being there, sharing those final precious moments with him.

The silver lining here is that his death brought almost all 50 of us together in Florida over the past several days to celebrate his life in a fashion that I repeatedly referred to as "Desrosiers Summer Camp." It also set the stage for my emotional self to get in some serious reflecting and gratitude expressing. It is rare that a family of 8 boys are all happily married with children and everyone gets along. This simply just does not happen in America anymore. With that said, while I sometimes feel like the wild card of the family lacking a filter, I know that I am incredibly blessed to have been born and accepted into such an amazing tribe.

I may not believe in God and may not have a seat waiting for me in heaven. I do, however, believe in the inherent good in people. I believe in love- deep, raw, eternal love. I believe in family, loyalty, respect, gratitude and generosity. I am choosing to use my yoga mind to breathe in and accept my feelings of regret, guilt and jealousy, and then breathe out to release them, for they no longer serve me. After mourning together with family, I am now certain that Pepere loved me and prayed for me, regardless of my religious affiliation or lack thereof, and I can sleep well tonight knowing that I have the privilege of being a piece of his living legacy.