upworthy

death

Thích Nhật in 2014.

There are times when it seems no words can soothe the sadness following the death of a loved one. Whether you're a child just discovering grief or a fully grown adult with years of trials and tribulations behind you, grief can sneak up and feel insurmountable.

Buddhist monk Thích Nhất Hạnh was a spiritual leader and Zen philosopher, whom many referred to as "the father of mindfulness." Coining the idea of "Engaged Buddhism," his aim was to turn the concept of reflection into action.

From Harvard.edu: "Some observers may associate Buddhism, and especially Buddhist meditation, with turning inward away from the world. However, many argue that the Buddhist tradition, with its emphasis on seeing clearly into the nature of suffering and, thus, cultivating compassion, has a strong impetus for active involvement in the world’s struggles. This activist stream of Buddhism came to be called 'Engaged Buddhism'—Buddhism energetically engaged with social concerns."

 Buddha, Buddha statue, Plum Village, Engaged Buddhism, Th\u00edch Nh\u1ea5t H\u1ea1nh A brown buddha statue sits near a green mountain.  Photo by abhijeet gourav on Unsplash  

Hạnh spent the entirety of his life meditating on and writing about nonviolent conflict resolution, love, death, compassion, and mindfulness—and then urging people around the world to take action to make impactful change. He connected people of all faiths through his writing, teaching engagements, and the founding of the Plum Village Monastery in the Dordogne, southern France near the city of Bordeaux. In all he did, Hạnh worked with the intent to encourage people to seek both inner and outer peace.

Proving he was also a powerful poet, in an Instagram reel making the rounds, Hạnh was once asked by a child how she can "stop being sad." In the video she says, "I had a doggy. And this doggy died and I was very sad." She turns to him, "So I don't know how to be not so sad." Gently, he responds, "Suppose you look up into the sky and you see a beautiful cloud. And you like the cloud so much."

The child looks at him intently, her eyes welling up with tears. He continues, "And suddenly the cloud is no longer there. And you think that the cloud has passed away. Where is my beloved cloud now? So if you have time to reflect, to look, you see that the cloud has not died. It has not passed away. The cloud has become the rain. And when you look at the rain, you see your cloud."

Her eyes remain bright with curiosity, as he says, "And when you drink your tea, mindfully, you can see the rain in your tea and you can see your cloud in your tea. And you can say, 'Hello, my cloud. I know you have not died. You are still alive in a new form.' So the doggy is the same. And if you look very deeply, you can see doggy in its new form."

The girl starts laughing and crying in what seems to be a very pure moment of understanding. "You are still alive in a new form" seemed to help transform her thoughts on change and death in just minutes.

Aubert Bastiat (@aubertbastiat) posted the Instagram clip, which is a snippet from the documentary Walk with Me about Thích Nhất Hạnh's teachings. Bastiat comments, in his own words, "Love doesn’t vanish, it simply transforms." This concept is backed up in much of Hanh's work, including his book, No Death, No Fear: Comforting Wisdom for Life, in which he wrote, "Birth and death are only a door through which we go in and out. Birth and death are only a game of hide-and-seek. So smile to me and take my hand and wave good-bye. Tomorrow we shall meet again or even before."

  Thích Nhất Hạnh, Buddhism, death, Buddhist monk  www.youtube.com, Plum Village  

And just under the first comment on the reel, the director of the documentary, Marc J. Francis, writes, "I shot this for my film Walk With Me…. Love seeing this scene being shared."

Something about the deep need to make sense of death spawned many vulnerable comments. People shared their heartfelt stories—from those who have lost someone recently to those who are sick and facing their own mortality.

And of Thích Nhất Hạnh himself, a commenter simply writes, "One of my life’s best teachers."

Canva

An In Case of Emergency sign.

“Meet me on the Moon,” I’d said. “If one of us ever dies, that’s where we should meet. We should bring raincoats and flashlights, just in case.”

I said this to a third grade friend, whose name I can’t recall, and then we immediately got into a fight as to whether Snoopy or Garfield was cuter. (Obviously, Snoopy, right?) But it was an excellent plan and one I made, at least in my mind, with nearly everyone I’ve ever loved.

the moon, stars, space, Cosmos, outer spaceEarth's Moon among the stars. Photo by Josh Miller on Unsplash

In just a year and a half's time, my two “in case of emergency” people died. One was my Dad, whose presence in my life was colossal. He was the loudest, smartest person in the room, full of radio stories and Topps baseball cards. You will never meet a person who loved dogs more than him (except possibly myself), and even though he hugged like a Texan— which is just a hard pat on the back—his life force was like a giant swaddling blanket. He’d hate hearing that, because he didn’t like the gooey stuff. But too bad.

I was always making him take “personality” quizzes online and he never understood the point of them. “So I can understand you better,” I’d say. “I like Monty Python. And bacon. What else is there to understand?”

The glow itself didn’t come from him. Warmth wasn’t really his thing. But when I was super young, he’d wake me and my brother up sometimes in the middle of the night to look at the icy rings of Saturn through his telescope. Or the Moon when it was in a particularly rare phase. I’d occasionally sneak into the room when he was watching the original Cosmos on PBS. I’d stroll past his bookshelf, full of theoretical themes and astrophysics. This is where his glow was kept.

We emailed each other YouTube links of songs we liked. I’m not sure he always listened to mine, but it was our way of talking without talking. “Listen to the lyrics.” Or “Get to the bridge when the slide guitar kicks in.” It was between the notes where we found a Dad/Daughter language in which we were both fluent.

-Don Henley, Jackson Browne. Blind Pilotwww.youtube.com

Once, not even that long ago, I proposed this to him: “What if what scientists perceive to be “dark matter” is really just ghosts? We sense something is there, in the fabric of space, but we can’t account for it, because it’s just spirits who were once here and are now gone. Do you think that’s possible?” He didn’t even look up from his iPad. “No. Absolutely not.”

When he got sick with leukemia, I was sitting with him when the hospice chaplain came to visit. My Dad, who certainly wasn’t religious, surprisingly asked, “Do you think we’re reincarnated? Because if so, I’d like to come back as a professional golfer. If I come back as a ballroom dancer, please shoot me and let me start over.”

He then mentioned a fear of coming back as a “water bug.” I said I didn’t think that would happen and he asked how could I be sure. I said, “It’s just the kinda thing you know.”

I didn’t believe he could ever really leave. He’d announced he was leaving for at least 20 years before, (cancer twice, clogged arteries, you name it) and this time around, I thought it was impossible. He had a big birthday party and passed the next morning in his sleep.

Just a Thursday like any given Thursday. I cried noises I didn’t think I could make and then I went to the Moon. I hunted through the cold for remnants of life. I combed through layers of dark matter, asking spirits or professional golfers to reveal themselves. Nothing answered me back.

flashlights, stars, moon, searching, spacesilhouette of man holding flashlight Photo by Linus Sandvide on Unsplash


On a different Thursday, a year and half prior, I saw my best friend (and second-in-command “case of emergency”) Jordan for the last time. I’d dragged him to a dumb “Awards Season” documentary screening, wearing the completely wrong dress that he’d said looked like an Atari game.

He was off that night. But Hollywood is off, so tilted backwards that if anyone stumbles inside of it, they actually seem balanced. Who isn’t off when zombies roam Sunset screaming obscenities and no one seems to notice? The CNN building blink, blink, blinks its red light into our hopeful smog, mistaking us for Time Square, daring us to report how f-ing crazy it all is.

Jordan and I had been sealed the summer of 1997. Boyfriends, apartments, girlfriends, roommates, and dogs came and went, but we were sealed. My romantic crush on him ebbed and flowed until we finally made out for a year in 2005. That put a crimp in the pureness of our friendship and we had to take a few years off for the resentment. I wonder, now, what kind of memories we could have filled in those missing years.

He was that kind of friend who made up nicknames for EVERY. SINGLE. GUY I’d ever even so much as gone on one date with. Star Trek Man. Loud Talker. Crunch the Numbers Guy. The kind of friend with whom you have so many inside jokes, you can’t keep them straight. We wrote lyrics to movie theme songs and would just voice memo them to each other all day long.

He’d gotten really sad around 2016, but hadn’t we all? He got mopey. Started eating poorly, stopped making eye contact. I don’t know if that’s the year he went and bought himself a gun, but that’s what he did.

Four weeks after I saw him, he texted me alternate lyrics to the theme song for the movie Meatballs (which was oddly and hilariously just something about Bill Murray’s face), and then a few days later, he took his own life. I’ve always hated the expression “take your own life,” because it begs the obvious question…took it where? Where did he take it? It makes it sound like he took it to Hawaii on vacation. That life—it was so heavy on me, it seemed impossible to lift. He was my boulder. He was an unmovable green stone that lived inside every tunnel in the gray matter of my mind, dipping in and out like sugar in rum, exploding into light like a Supernova.

space, supernova, green light, art, cosmosan artist's impression of a green spiral in space Photo by Javier Miranda on Unsplash

And so when he left, I got untethered—and not in a good way. I just couldn’t keep my feet in this atmosphere. My darkness turned to rage and then to guilt and then to darkness again. And yeah, that’s all laid out in those pop psych books about grief, but what they don’t tell you is how quiet the in-between moments are. How still and creepy and unkind your own thoughts can be, as if a piece of sepia-toned gauze has been stuck between you and the rest of the world. Once people stop texting “How are you?” you realize the world has continued to spin, even when people you love fall off of it.

So for the last few months, I’d leave my Moon expeditions and bounce back down to Earth to try and fall in love or reconnect or watch the news to understand the nature of man and power and all that comes with it. Ya know, whatever it is we’re supposed to do when we’re alive. But as it turns out, Tinder dates don’t like to hear about this kind of stuff.

Him: “Would you like another martini?”

Me: “…And ANOTHER thing about death and dying is…”

Him: “Check, please!”

So, back up I’d go to the deepest craters, digging for proof of death. Holding my flashlight in its brightest position, searching for signs, as Sagan’s Pale Blue Dot loomed in the background. This same blue dot containing all of my Dad and Jordan’s old photos and trophies and passwords to social media accounts that seem impossible to have ever held such meaning. Wondering if I found them out there, will they know me? Will they remember me?

earth, space, clouds , Pale Blue Dot, planet Earth with clouds above the African continent Photo by NASA on Unsplash

But it turns out I have not been standing on any rock at all. I’ve been in a billion mile dust cloud made up of all the things I wished I’d ever said and done. There is no point of singularity I can return to, as it all just keeps churning outwards. And as you’re hurling through the milky swirls, you don’t have time to grab on to a single thing.

It doesn’t matter how many trillions of times I forget and command Siri to “Call Jordan” or “Call Dad.” Those sound waves become slack tides, and sit stationary, motionless, unable to surf. Though lately when I’ve accidentally asked my iPhone to “Call Dad,” it chooses to “Call Dan”— a guy I went on one awful date with on Bumble. Poor Dan must be so confused…and terrified.

So, I’m touching back down to re-enter the atmosphere for as long as I can. To stop banging my head against the same walls. To try not to turn every heartbreak into “ninth grade Cecily, listening to The Cure on repeat.” Or maybe the opposite…DEFINTELY turn every heartbreak into “ninth grade Cecily listening to The Cure on repeat.” To accept the fact that I’m drawn to people with flaws bigger than my own, perhaps so I can hide inside them like a puzzle piece that never quite fits.

heart, puzzle pieces, love, flawsTwo pink hearts float on a black background Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash

And yes, while the “How are you?” texts stop coming, love, even in death, is stronger than any answer you could even give to that insipid question. It exists on its own, whether you’re of sound mind or not. It exists, even if the Moon contingency plan seems elusive.

Reentry from the darkest corners of time, space, faulty neurotransmitters, and loss is a birthright we can’t afford to ignore. So we shouldn't ignore it. We must remember that although we are sometimes left with a void bigger than any black hole, we are the light that escapes. I think of that light, much like time itself, as though it were handfuls of glitter, floating aimlessly through our bodies and the bodies of everyone we've ever known. Our dogs, our late-night strawberry wine crushes, our family, Jordan—and yeah, even that weird Bumble date, Dan, (I guess.)

We must find a way to tether ourselves into the present, even those of us who are constantly searching. Because we will always be searching—for what we once knew, and what we haven't met yet. For me, it's in my dreams and it's always my dad. We're supposed to go to some play or football game or concert. Keys in hand, I call out for him and he doesn't answer. I can still smell his vanilla pipe tobacco lingering in this in-between space, but there's no trace of him for what seems like hours and then I wake up. (Although in one dream, we were headed to the Super Bowl and he briefly appeared just to taunt that my beloved Cowboys were gonna lose. Jokes on him because we hadn't been to the Super Bowl in decades.)

I’ll get back to the Moon soon enough. Until then, I’ll try to stop asking first dates, especially those I meet on Tinder, to be my “in case of emergency” contacts. Too soon, Cecily.

A woman upset she's not talking to her friend.

A woman’s social media post begs the big question: How far should someone go to put themselves out for a friend after they experience a traumatizing situation together? It all began when a woman made friends with her neighbors, Eli and Leo, a same-sex married couple. However, she began to distance herself from Eli after a while because he was “selfish” and “not a very good friend.”

One day, as she was leaving the house to go shopping, she received multiple calls from Eli that she didn’t pick up. He then texted her, “Leo just passed. Please answer.” She rushed home and saw an ambulance in front of the apartment building. When she got to Eli’s apartment, she saw Leo lying dead on the floor with Eli hugging him, sobbing inconsolably.

“They were watching TV when Leo suddenly got up and said he has pain in his chest, then collapsed. Paramedics came and pronounced him dead. They said we now have to wait for the police,” the woman wrote on Reddit. “We were waiting like this on the floor—Eli sobbing and hugging Leo’s body, and me hugging Eli—for almost 2 hrs. Then police came, and we sat on the couch right in front of Leo for another few hours. I did my best to stay calm and collected and help Eli. Many hours later, they took Leo away.”

ambulkance, heart attack, health care, emergency, ambulance driverThe back doors of an ambulance.via Canva/Photos

Eli asked the woman to call and tell Leo’s parents, who didn’t know that he was gay or married. They didn’t believe her. Eli’s cousins came over for a while and then left. “I stayed till late night, ordered food, cleaned, etc. We watched TV under the same blanket I used to cover Leo’s body. I didn’t sleep that night,” the woman continued.

Over the next few days, Eli kept calling the woman, asking her to come over, but she told him she was “sick” because “the thought of entering that apartment makes me shake.” The incident was so traumatic for the woman that she has made an appointment to see a therapist. “I feel deeply affected by what happened. I keep seeing flashbacks. I’m afraid to leave my apartment because I’m afraid to run into Eli. I was already depressed and I’m so so lonely,” she wrote. “I feel so guilty for ghosting Eli in this horrible situation when his whole world collapsed.”

upset woman, sad woman, trauma, woman staring at floor, brunette, woman on couchAn upset woman with her thoughts.via Liza Summer/Pexels

She asked the online forum if she was in the wrong for ghosting Eli, and just about everyone supported her choice.

“No, dear, [it’s not your fault]. This was a catastrophe, and you are in crisis and need help. What happened to you was very traumatic, and you are traumatized; you need to find help from your loved ones (or professionals, if those resources are available to you) to heal from this. You can't draw water from an empty well, and in my opinion, you should only consider assisting Eli in ways that contribute to or at least don't completely derail your recovery. You've already been more help to them than anybody else has. You can't keep anybody warm by setting yourself on fire. I'm so sorry this happened to both of you, what a horrible, tragic experience and loss,” the most popular commenter wrote.

“His husband just died, and you were kind enough to help him through the immediate aftermath. It does suck that he doesn't have a support system he needs, but you don't either,” another commenter wrote.

via Canva/Photos

The only person with a problem with how the woman handled it believes that she needs to give Eli a reason why she isn’t responding to him. “[You’re in the wrong] for ghosting him without explanation. That only makes things worse. You are emotionally drained and do not have the bandwidth to support him. That is completely fine. You just need to communicate that fact to him,” they wrote.

Ultimately, the commenters believe the woman did the right thing to stand by Leo’s side, even in the most disturbing situations, and she deserves praise for her kindness. In the comments, the woman wrote that she has no support, so the positive response, even by a Reddit forum of strangers, has to have made her feel some relief at a time when she is so traumatized.

Canva Photos

A woman named Blakelyn never knew her mom. Reading the journal changed everything.

Some of us are lucky enough to take our parents for granted. We have a brain full of memories of them, and many decades to form new ones. We learn who they are as people, who they were before we were born, where they came from, what their hopes and dreams were, how they met their partner—our other parent.

Some people don't have that luxury. About 5% of kids have lost one parent by the time they turn 18, and the odds get worse from there.

A woman named Blakelyn suffered unimaginable tragedy as a child when both of her parents died in separate car accidents within a few years of each other. She grew up hungry for any tangible memories of what they were like.

In particular, Blakelyn's mother died when she was just a baby. So, she grew up with no mother, very little understanding of why and what happened, and almost no memories at all of her existence.

Worse, her father was too grief-stricken to talk much about Blakelyn's mom—understandably so. That left her very little to go on, and when he sadly passed away too, she lost the only connection she had to her mother.

Imagine her shock when, 21 years later, Blakelyn's aunt was sorting through rooms at Blakelyn's grandparents' house when she discovered an old journal belonging to her mom.

Blakelyn was desperate to get her hands on it, and captured her reaction to its contents in a powerful post on social media.

image, screenshot, video, tiktok, parents, children, notebookTikTok · Blakelynnnwww.tiktok.com


For the first time in her life, Blakelyn got a look inside her mom's heart and mind. And she uncovered some amazing revelations along the way.

Among the highlights of the journal are pages and pages of notes Blakelyn's mom made as she was brainstorming names for her baby girl. There are lists of first names, first name middle name pairings, and experiments with different combinations.

In the post, Blakelyn expresses awe that her name was almost Baylee Alyssa, and also Bailey Alana. Mom had really honed in on those creative B names!

In a calendar portion of the journal, Mom noted key dates like the day she moved in with Blakelyn's dad, and also the day he proposed. Blakelyn had never known that the two were engaged when her mom died.

Mom also crossed off dates in succession, counting down the days until her daughter was born. It was all overwhelming in the best way.

@blakelynnnnnnn

Replying to @iliana i don’t have many but i cherish the ones i do have

The TikToker told Newsweek that not having any memories of her mom didn't make the loss any less painful. In a way, it left her searching for this intangible missing piece her entire life. Now, with the journal, she's got that piece back.

The post went viral, racking up hundreds of thousands of likes and bringing viewers to tears, as shared in the comments:

"She LOVED you. She wanted the most perfect name for you. She LOVED you. SHE LOVED YOU"

"you were so loved BEFORE you were here. imagine how much more they love you after they are gone … i’m sorry luv. you were seriously her most prized possession!!"

"She was just a girl, and she loved you and thought of you so much before you were even born"

"Wait, I love that she used the calendar to write the good things that happened versus using it to plan out future events. How sweet!"

"This is so sweet. Both of my parents passed away and a few months ago I found their love letters they had written to each other while they were long distance before I was even born. I tell myself all the time they were just teenagers in love."

A few commenters even had a great idea. Now that Blakelyn has her own name in her mom's handwriting, she's got all the makings of an epic and emotional tattoo. A way for her to continue carrying a piece of her mom with her everywhere.

"I definitely will be doing this," she responded.