Death of Emotion

Dealing with death is never easy, even for the most socially apt and sophisticated person. No matter how intuitive a person is . . . no matter how skilled they might be socially . . . talking about death is always difficult. There's never an obvious good thing to say - except "I'm sorry" which falls drastically short.
You would think that a young man who everyone tells you has limited or not as sophisticated social skills or has 'trouble relating to others' would be the one who struggles with this most. In my family, Jackson was the one who handled it better than any of us. Myself included. Last week, the kid with the Asperger's led us all to a clam and rational place.

My grandmother died last week. She was 92 so it was not a huge shock, but she was in excellent health and extremely vital mentally, so it was a huge shock in that respect. She was my son's great-grandmother. They knew she loved them very much and they loved her in return. The biggest surprise during one of the most painful weeks of my entire decade was Jackson's kind, empathetic and simply attentive responses to those around him he believed were grieving. Yes, he was controlled. Yes, he was factual, but in the whirlwind of pain and emotion that any death creates - his clarity was like a security blanket. He logically asked what we needed to do and called multiple family members every day to check in - to make sure they were okay.

The last time we saw her was in August. My son reminded me that he was so glad he had the chance to see her. As I spoke about her body being transported to the place of the burial he reminded me not to be sad - because she wasn't there, she was in heaven - where it was better and she wasn't alone. As I fight back tears while I stumble through dinner, he reminds me that everyone dies - it's part of life.

Once again, my son has taught me so much about how to get through life in one piece, make sense of the events around me and communicate inside a tornado of emotion. Never have I been so thankful for my children.