Death is always bittersweet. Always.
We cry, we reflect, we hug each other.
Why is something that is so depressing so bittersweet?
What are we supposed to think of it?
How are we supposed to feel?
Should we be angry?
Sometimes we’re even happy.
Even in the worst cases, we reflect on the good times.
The good in a person.
Who they were.
Even if they were evil.
We mention the good as well.
We want to see the good in a person so bad.
Why is that?
Are they not allowed to be remembered for who they were?
Or do we hold the better times closer for comfort, instead?
What helps us cope with death?
Memories of who they were?
Mixed with memories of the reality of who they are?
We cry at funerals because we miss those wicked ways. Why?
Sometimes I wonder deeply about why we feel what we feel.. and at what times.. and why?
Even if I’m wrong.. but that’s why I’m asking.
