Just a Passing Thought

I've been thinking about death a lot lately (for obvious reasons).
Why is death so sad? When my father died, I felt so BAD for him. I kept thinking about all the things he liked to do, all the things he enjoyed and it made me so fucking sad to think he would never do these things again.
My mother bought him a huge television just 2 weeks before he died. He loved that damn thing. I posted about it here.
Now, Mom is the only one watching it.
It's so sad.
But why?
For some reason I can't seem to have an emotion without analyzing it to death. I wanted to know why I felt so bad.
Dad was very sick. He knew he was going to die (we all did and tried to prepare for it) and he knew that his death wouldn't be easy or peaceful. But it was. He died quietly without pain or a long hospital stay. This is a good thing.
I am not an ultra religious person. I have certain beliefs and I grew up believing in God, Jesus Christ, heaven and hell.
I'm not sure about most of those things anymore but I did believe in my Granddad.
Many years ago he had open heart surgery. He died on the operating table.
He has memories from that moment.
Now, understand this: Granddad was a very no-nonsense type of man. He didn't believe in fantasies and silly things. He was a hard-worker, a public official and everyone's rock. He didn't make up stories, so everything he said about that moment I truly believe.
He talked about this feeling of relief and peace. He said that he could feel himself traveling somewhere and he couldn't wait to get there. He didn't describe a white light like so many people do but he said that while he was "traveling" he acquired an understanding. This understanding seemed to be the meaning of life to him and he thought to himself, "How simple! Why didn't I realize this before?"
Then suddenly, he was going back to where he came from and they brought him back to the operating table. He tried holding on to that understanding but when he came to, he had forgotten it.
He lived for another 10 years.

He didn't go around telling this story to everyone but he told my mother and she told me and we believe.

So, my father is gone now. I should be happy for him. He is probably somewhere wonderful. He's probably completely whole now. No kidney failure, no stoma from his larynjectomy 20 yrs ago. He can probably sing again.
I shouldn't feel bad about the television he'll never watch again, the fish he'll never catch or all his beloved snacks he'll never eat.
He's probably got it good where ever it is he may be.

Death isn't about the people who die, but about the people that are left behind.
Mom is riddled with guilt because he asked for some watermelon a few weeks before he died. She told him it was too messy and she didn't buy it.
Now she wishes she did. Watermelon! She feels guilty over watermelon.

Two weeks before, Mom went out of town for a few days and I would come over to make his coffee and bring him lunch and dinner.
One morning I came over with coffee and a half dozen Krispy Kreme donuts. He was so happy! He ate all 6 donuts! I marveled at how happy those few donuts made him.
I visited with him a while which now I thank God I did. I usually would breeze in and breeze out as fast as I could. It seemed I always had something better to do.
I decided to go ahead and make his lunch so I wouldn't have to come back in a few hours so I found all kinds of things in the kitchen to throw together for an amazing sandwich. I found pastrami, salami, turkey, ham and roast beef. I stacked that all together with some cheese and mixed together dijon mustard, horseradish, tabasco sauce and thousand island dressing to make a spread. I slathered that on some thick bread and made him a sandwich that I swear to God was 3 inches thick!
I put that on a plate with some pickles and string cheese, covered it with foil and put it on the table by his chair so he could eat it at lunch time.
Dad told everyone about this sandwich. He said it was the best thing he had ever eaten.

I think about that a lot now. I wish I had made more sandwiches like that.
But...maybe he's eating bigger and better ones somewhere wonderful.

It's hard to be happy when someone dies but maybe we should. Maybe it's an honor to pass from this life into the next. Who the hell knows what's waiting for us over there?