While I was driving through New Jersey earlier this afternoon, my thoughts turned to Cathy Seipp. I knew she was dying and I'd tried to wish her goodbye to the best of my ability, but it was just one of those moments that I stopped and thought about all the deaths I've been through (a lot -- a whole lot), and I remembered meeting her, which was one of the rare privileges I've had as a blogger. I told her that I admired her bravery and everything and I sort of choked up at the time. This was when? A couple of years ago in New York? Yes. (It was not long after she had first blogged about her diagnosis.) Anyway, she had such dignity, such class, it was as if she understood what I was trying to say and couldn't. I was just tongue tied and it seemed almost tacky to tell her how many people I knew who had died and everything and I couldn't, and --
Shit. Death is one of those things that just plain sucks. You never get used to it and you never get over it.
She went somewhere. We can all agree on that. And she'll damn well be missed.
When you are talking to someone who is dying, you want to make them understand that their passing will hurt you, but you don't want to make it seem as if their death is about you. You want to communicate that you care and hurt but you also want to make it clear that you want them not to hurt. You want them to know that you'll think of them fondly while letting them know that you'll cry when they go.
If there were a good way to say goodbye, well, I'm pretty sure we'd all copy it from the genius who thought of it. I was extremely close to my paternal grandfather, and he passed about a year ago, and just thinking of it can still rip me apart. And part of that is because I know I didn't say goodbye the right way, to let him know how I felt or make him better, or both.
I guess what I'm saying is, yeah. Death sucks.
Cathy was undoubtedly a class act, and will be missed.
Death is coming to us all.
Cathy is an exemplar of a life well lived. We should all be so lucky.
RIP