If I Should Die Before I Wake

I don't know what it is about death makes sleep impossible. I also don't know if it's just me or if this is a kind of universal response. My first major experience with death was when I was seven and my great aunt died. I remember sitting up late with my mom, past one in the morning at least, talking about death and being kind of afraid to sleep. I suppose having my sense of mortality shaken makes it harder to sleep. Ever since then, everytime someone important to me has died I haven't slept. In the past two cases there was lots of baking done. It's just a sense of helplessness, and a kind of denial where I feel as though if I stay in this kind of shocked state maybe it's not really real. And then there's the kind of creepy layer of the spirit of that loved one looming and desperately wanting to hold on to them, but also being afraid they might appear. I'm not good at this. I try to cope and deal with death but it takes me a long time to mourn and I don't know how to fix it. I much prefer being wrapped up in the trappings of school then to have to let life happen so harshly. When my Zaida died my English Lit. teacher told me "life happens" and re-weighted the course for me so I wouldn't have to write the essay that was due that week. Funny how the expression "life happens" only seems to apply for me in instances of death. He was also the teacher that when I explained sitting shivah he told me that his Jamaican traditions around dealing with death were to drink rum and suggested I get myself some. I wish there were more people out there who had such a good sense of reality.

So now I'm all alone on my bed with my bear waiting for sleep. I wish I had a warm body next to me to get me through this night. Tomorrow I have to deal with writing the paper I negelected to finish tonight because life got in the way.