Moving On

 Until recently, death would bother me. Funerals, even more. 

As a professional overthinker, a funeral place firstly reminds me of the time I lost my brother, and it pricks me so deep, the vivid memory of him lying motionless in a glass box... And then other thoughts creep in - the moments that I dread - death of my loved ones.

The bawling, the rants, the pain, the grief - all of them take me to a realm I never want to experience. A gentle reminder that life is unpredictable and death is the only certain thing. That we are all growing old and the people I looked upto growing up, the presence of humans I felt all through my life, all of that is slowly going to fade away. Parents, uncles and aunts, cousins and friends... All of that's gonna go. Slowly, but certainly. 

And that thought and feeling inject and undeniable pain in me, and I have often found myself sobbing in funeral homes of people I have barely known. Until last week.

Last week, I attended a mourning of a relative and to my surprise, after a long 11 years of experiencing grief of what the future beholds, I found myself not experiencing any of that. It's a first in over a decade and it was peaceful. It was just another passing away of a random relative and that was it. No grief, no pain, no overthinking. 

And I am so glad I noticed. No anxiety. No pain. No low mood. No sobbing. Maybe this is what they call healing. Or moving on. And I am glad, I am getting there. Not because I don't fear any of that anymore, but that I am finally getting myself prepared to face it all.