I cannot erase the emptiness that exists in my soul for the people around me who have died, those that I knew well and those that I never knew at all. I cannot stop myself from clawing at fate and saying, this is not justice, this is not right. Justice cannot exist where a husband is taken from his family of 15 children and his wife in the prime of his life. Justice cannot exist where a man stands by his wife of 75 years and watches her deteriorate from coherence to incoherence and eventually death. Death does not bring healing, it just brings more misery, and loneliness, and pain.
This is not justice, I feel in my heart, except the knowledge that we all must pass and receive that cold solace. And maybe there is some comfort in that, even if it makes me withdraw even tighter into myself. It makes me more willing to forgive those that harm me and my family, because I understand how frail and ignorant we all are, how little time we have to do anything of value.
How do I handle it? I grieve internally, I cry, I kick, I scream, I write, I curl into a ball and weep. Not all at once, but usually spread over a period of several years. I try to be strong for my family and my friends, the best I can. In the end, I say goodbye, and step back onto my shaking legs, and carry on, because I am not ready to die myself. That's all any of us can do.