It's a ridiculous understatement to say it's hard when people die. But sometimes the drastic understatement is the only way to state anything of truth about something as large and as complex as the organic structure of mourning. So I won't try. This post isn't about death, anyway.
What I will say is that death is inevitable. It will happen, so spending any more time lamenting that simple truth is a waste. What *is* remarkable and amazing and miraculous is that we're even here, period. And I do believe we chose this time, this place, these struggles, these joys. I really do.
I have no proof of this, of course, but I do know this: we must have been (must *be*) strong as hell to have chosen this place. We must have been so sure of our clear sight, our vision, our mission, our ability to handle, well, ANYTHING, that we went ahead and signed up. We got in line, grabbed our glittery rainbow parachutes and took a running leap out of whatever Nirvana-incarnation we were lounging in.
That's character. THAT'S the kind of strength we need to remember we possessed *before* we were born; it's innate. It's here. We've had access to it all along.
So you think this day, this person, this relationship, this situation can throw you? Ha! Not likely. You took a blind leap of faith straight out of paradise, honey. I dare anyone to test you, to underestimate you. You've got the power of thousands of angelic-fairy-warrior-ninjas behind you and within you. I think you've got this covered.