Questions Without Answer

As you know, every now and again my posts are written by other people. This is one of those occasions.

Courtesy of Megan Francis:

Death is not an easy subject to write about, so please pardon the clichés, and pardon how irresolute this piece ends...Irresolution and death just go hand-in-hand..

Death triggers so many more questions than there are answers on the subject. The imbalance is unfair. And the questions are endless, sometimes even senseless, yet they constantly resurface when tragedy comes, uninvited of course. Questions vary from person to person. And they usually change as the mourner progresses through the different stages of grief.

Some people are haunted with the notion of why did ___ die when it was clear how good of a person he/she was? Did God have bigger things planned for __? Is __ in heaven right now amused over our confusion? Some questions leave you feeling angry. Irate even. Others leave you feeling guilty. I urge you not to dwell on the guilt-provoking questions. The burden of such ambiguity is unfair for any person to carry -- so clear those thoughts from your conscious.

Focus on the more inspirational questions instead. Ask yourself: What lesson am I supposed to take away from this tragedy? There is always a lesson, sometimes there are multiple lessons. You have to discover this for yourself. It may be something as cliché as accepting the tragic notion that sometimes life just isn’t fair. Or the tragedy may have served to remind you of how incredibly fragile and uncertain life is.

There is no time restraint with discovering the lesson for yourself. It could take days, weeks, years even. There’s no rush. But once you have discovered the intended lesson, next ask yourself: “how will I be remembered when my time comes?” Accept the fact that the choices you make today shape how you will be remembered; they form the legacy you will leave. It may be chilling, but it’s true.

Allow the question of your legacy to resurface as a means to both remind and inspire.

Finally, stop with the questions all together. And just remember. Remember every last detail about the person. Remember their aspirations. Remember their  dreams. Remember their favorite candy, favorite band, favorite place. Honor all of these things about them.

In doing this, the deceased is never really gone, just somewhere else, somewhere we cannot easily see. They’re probably laughing over how stressed we get over the most trivial of things. Or maybe they’re waiting for us. Or maybe they’re helping us. Maybe they’re doing it all.