Loss and saying goodbye

I am almost afraid to read the paper these days. It seems every time I do, there is someone I know listed in the obituaries. It is always a shock, accompanied by varying degrees of personal sadness.

During those times, I have to fight the urge to interview family members and friends to construct a story to memorialize them. I had written such stories for so long. In all my years writing for a newspaper, memorials were always one of my least favorite stories to write. They were difficult because they were so important. As the last comments ever said about a person, those stories almost always had an impact. They were so positive. Something can be said in those final moments after death about every person, whether they lead the life of a celebrity or are a homeless recluse. Every person has a story. Everybody does something well. Often times, that final story is the only time a person's name ever appears in a newspaper.

I didn't write about every person who died in our town, but I wrote about those who were prominent members of the community. Stories memorializing the deceased was also warranted if a death accompanied a news event, such as an accident or other tragic circumstance. I also wrote about people I knew to be special.

Most newspapers have their own policy regarding obituaries and death notices. It was through those guidelines that I learned the mechanics of writing them. As the years went on though, I realized how invaluable they were to grieving families. They were always clipped and saved. They deserved effort. Nearly every one of the stories I wrote became personal to me. I put my heart and soul into them. I often cried when I wrote them. If I knew the person who died and was fond of them, I often wrote the words straight from my heart, because I too was saying goodbye. 

The memories and feelings that are conjured up by a person's death, at least for me, come from a place beyond my conscious mind. Just seeing a name or a picture can awaken emotions that I may have not even known were there. It is almost like that little sound you make when you are startled. You hear it, and know it came out of you, but you have no idea how, why, or where it came from. 

This morning I read an obituary for a woman that I knew. Had I still lived there, I would have certainly written about her. She was a good, caring woman who was always helpful to others; she was a volunteer who devoted her time and energy to causes she believed in. She was feisty and funny. Truthfully, she was no  more than an acquaintance, but there was something about her warm smile and a good-natured heart. I admired her spunk. Rest in peace Barb Oliver.

Closure sucks

I think I learned recently what it means to have closure.

I came across information recently about someone I knew long ago. I had heard that he was killed while in the military. I thought he may have died in Viet Nam, since that was the last place I knew him to be. I had searched for his name on the Viet Nam wall, but didn't find it. I have wondered all these years -- more than 30 years. I had secretly hoped it just wasn't true.

But I recently learned that my friend died in a small town in Texas. I am curious about the circumstances of his death. And I'd really like to know more.

I asked Google a bunch of questions, looking for anything I could find that would offer information. I wasn't interested in the pay-big-bucks-to-find-the-dirt-on-anybody sites. I quickly dismissed those.

When that didn't turn up anything I looked for an obituary. Plenty of sites make claims that they are free, but are really just another scam in my view. The sites, generally used for genealogy research, advertise free obituaries, but they aren't free at all. They advertised a free trial if you sign up -- WITH YOUR CREDIT CARD.

I know that gimmick. They tell you that after the trial period is over you can opt out by simply canceling. Trouble is you practically have to move mountains to get out of the commitment. Once they have their hooks into you, they never want to let go. I learned my lesson and will never do that again.

Perhaps if they are serious about offering a free trial period, just to let you familiarize yourself with what they have to offer, why don't they do what internet gamers do? Gamers provide free play for a number of minutes, usually 60. When the allotted time is up, you either sign up or you're done.

I literally spent hours one evening looking for information. I searched for an obituary. I found the newspaper in Texas that initially ran the obituary. It cost nothing to see a death notice dating back to 2000, but to see one older than that would cost almost $3. I was still reluctant to whip out a credit card just to read public information that should be free in the first place. I'm not trying to be unreasonable. The obit was online, according to a database that listed it. I just couldn't see it without paying for it.

Computer research is like a computer game -- of seek and find.

I found the name of the cemetery where my friend was buried, near his home town. Just seeing his name connected with a cemetery gave me pause. But when I clicked on his name, I wasn't really prepared for my own reaction. That was when it hit me.

I saw a photograph of the marker on the place where his body was buried in 1975. This was no longer a game. It was reality and it was sad.

Seeing that bronze plaque with his name and a date for his birth and for his death was disconcerting. I never cried for him before, until now. It hadn't been real until now.

This photograph was confirmation that someone I once cared about was dead at the age of only 24. I will always wonder about the circumstances, but the realization was enough. I now have closure. What that means to me is that all hope is gone. Closure is an ugly reality that can no longer be wished away. Closure sucks!