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Let Loss Remind You to Live

Man on a Pier

“Pain can change you, but that doesn’t mean it has to be a bad change. Take that pain and turn it into wisdom.” ~Unknown

Experiencing a death of someone, no matter how close you were to them, is a shock to the system.

One moment you’re just drinking your morning cup of Joe and then suddenly, you’ve collided with the uncertainty of existence.

Daily, we do everything we can to numb ourselves from our own fragility, but sudden death reminds us all that impermanence is still there under the surface, throbbing.

The other day, I logged onto Facebook and received a message from an old coworker. He asked me how I was and we exchanged the usual pleasantries, until, he dropped a bomb.

“You should know, Armando was killed in a car accident last week.”

Armando and I were not extremely close, but we were friends during the eight months I worked at a café with him.

We got to know each other when I began opening with him on Sunday mornings, me arranging box after box of fresh pastries in the case, him preparing the hollandaise sauces and turning on the ovens.

Sunday mornings were always slow, so Armando and I got a lot of time to chat and goof off.

We made a game out of calling each other the wrong names, which Armando especially loved. “Eighty-six croissant, Karla,” he’d yell from the kitchen, and I’d shoot him a, “right-o, Archie,” that would have him doubled over in laughter.

Armando made the monotony of our workdays colorful and fun, and I was always so thankful when he was on my shift.

Fast-forward to the day I found out he was gone. My impulse was to lump his death in with the rest of the bad news we are bombarded with every day. After all, I thought, we hadn’t been friends for long.

I was ready to downplay his impact on my life, to distract myself from the email about his memorial, to numb myself from the pain of loss. Really, I didn’t think I had the right to be upset about the death of someone I barely knew.

Except, there was still a knot in my gut that these thoughts weren’t helping to unwind. Armando brought joy and laughter into my life during a time when I was worn out from working three jobs and feeling lonely in a new city.

His light-heartedness often shocked me out of my bad moods, and no, I hadn’t known him well, but I could still be heartbroken the world had lost his light.

Then suddenly I was driving in my car, the same invention that killed Armando.

I wound through the streets of Berkeley, past the café we worked at together and the BART station and the library, and I let myself think about Armando. The special strawberry salad he used to make me and a coworker on our breaks, the times I got red-cheeked from catching him and his girlfriend kissing in the storeroom, the night of the wild Christmas party when we all went out and sang karaoke.

I thought about how he told me he wanted to move back to Mexico City, how much he loved it there. I let myself remember that he was more than a percentage or trending story, but a beating heart. I let myself cry for him.

Then I reminded myself: it’s okay to let yourself be affected by things.

Acknowledging tragedy puts our own fragile existences into question, and it forces us to face that we could’ve been the one who died suddenly.

That is a scary realization, but I say let it scare you. Let it put a fire under you. Let your limited time on this planet propel you toward your dreams with incalculable fervor.

Perhaps most importantly, let it make you grateful for the people around you who bring joy and laughter and love into your world, however fleeting.

Man on a pier image via Shutterstock

About Alexa Peters

Alexa Peters graduated with honors and a BA in Creative Writing from Western Washington University. She’s contributed to Amy Poehler’s Smart Girls At the Party, Middle Women, Elohi Gadugi Journal, and What’s Up! Music Magazine. When she isn't writing, Alexa plays Thelonious Monk, snuggles dogs and eats tiramisu as often as possible. To read more, visit her blog: itsallwritebyme.wordpress.com.

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Luna Darcy

Hi Alexa,

My condolences to you.

This is such an insightful post. Often we live in a world too fast faced we are not even allowed to mourn and just sit there with all the pain and grief.

What you said made me realize that life really can be so fast so we have to really make the most of it.

Thanks for this insightful post.

Luna

Susan Mary Malone

I’m so sorry for your loss, Alexa. But what a great lesson. You turned this into a growth opportunity, and hit the essence with : ” Let it put a fire under you. Let your limited time on this planet propel you toward your dreams with incalculable fervor.”
Thank You.

Harriet Cabelly

Hi Alexa,
Death, especially sudden death, always hits us like a ton of bricks and if we feel deeply and pay attention it can be a great reminder to the living to live well. Pain can teach us great lessons if we open ourselves up to it and want to, meaning not shy away from it. As the saying going, there but by the grace of God go I; that it could’ve been me. And that can shake us to the core. The key is not to let it be a fleeting feeling but to carry it with us and have the fragility of life be like a compass always pointing us in the right direction towards living with vigor, appreciation and awe. This whole topic is near and dear to my heart. I better stop here. Beautiful post!

Lindsay Adams

“Really, I didn’t think I had the right to be upset about the death of someone I barely knew.”
I feel like a lot of people often have that reaction at first – at least I do- and like you discovered it’s so important to let ourselves feel whatever we feel, you have a right to your feelings. someone once said to me “feelings are facts” …. absolutely!
Inspiring read – it’s important to realize we don’t have forever in this life. I wonder how many people in my life would change things dramatically if they considered this more of a reality. I’m trying to embody this, although it’s easy to get lost in routines at times. Lovely post though – thank you for sharing 😉

LaTrice Dowe

Sudden death will ALWAYS hit us like a ton of bricks. I know the pain all too well. My best friend passed away seven years ago, and to this day, her death still affects me. Death is a constant reminder that life’s too short to be unhappy, and to keep living well. I believe that it’s important to live your life to the fullest, because none of us will NEVER know when God will ask you to come home. This topic is dear and near to my heart, so I’ll have to stop there.

What a beautifully written post, Alexa. I’m sending condolences, prayers and hugs your way.

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Alexa Peters

Harriet,
Thanks for your reply. You have hit the nail on the head! Death and loss are tricky, however they hit. Your advice is exactly what I was going for: embrace the fragility of our time here and use it for direction, ambition, perseverence. Thanks again for reading. -Alexa

Alexa Peters

I’m so sorry for the death of your friend, LaTrice. I think the people we lose live on within us, and everyday I try to do their memories justice. Thanks for reading and for your thoughtful comments.
Much love,
Alexa

Alexa Peters

I’m glad you came to the same conclusion, Lindsay. “Feelings are facts,” I LOVE that. Thanks for sharing and reading.
Much love,
Alexa

Alexa Peters

Thank you for reading Susan!

Alexa Peters

One of the most important lessons I ever learned was how to pause. I am an anxious-tending, fast-paced, ambitious gal, but you can’t be like that 100% of the time. Our hearts and minds need time to process things, to formulate opinions, to derive lessons from daily life. I am thankful that what I wrote seems to have brought pause to you. Thank you for reading.

Much love,
Alexa

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