velvetcobra65 said:I guess you’d hear the exact same thing a hundred years ago, or a thousand, or two. People don't actually change as fast as we think they do. In my opinion, humans have always been the same; it’s just the way we show it that shifts. You’re always going to have empathetic people, narcissists, people who would give you the shirt off their back, and then those who whine about having nothing just to suck the attention out of a room. I think it’s wrong to assume that people who stay positive had easy lives or are just being superficial...
From where I'm sitting, the bigger issue is that people tend to take cheerful folks for granted. They write them off as shallow just because they don't bash their heads against a wall every time life gets heavy...
My mom passed away three weeks ago... and man, it’s incredibly hard. We were close, and even though I moved out on my own early, she was always my home—that place you go to hide away until the storm passes. I cry, but I cry alone. Do people really think it isn't hard for me to not have anyone to just hold me and say, "it'll be okay, you won't feel this broken forever"? Just because I don't walk around looking like a dark cloud when I'm out in public? Just because I don't fall apart in front of everyone? When people actually ask how I am, I tell them the truth... but at the end of the day, I still have to deal with it all by myself. No one can carry my grief for me. I can talk about other things (and I have to), I can support others, I can encourage them...
I am my parents' daughter. They went through so much nonsense with a smile, working their tails off without ever complaining. They genuinely cared about how people were doing, without feeling the need to brag about how they grew up with nothing or how hard they had to work jobs that had zero to do with their degrees... At my mom's funeral, there were over two hundred people there... and about a hundred of them weren't even family, just friends. Everyone saw her more like a sister because she stayed in touch with everyone, even when life was absolutely tearing her apart. Mostly because that's just who she was.
Smile, no matter how rough life gets. Life is as beautiful as it is difficult. With a smile, you might at least brighten someone else's day as you pass by. Even if it's just to make them laugh at the idea that you're not "normal," because honestly, who actually laughs when everything around us feels so gray and miserable...
Please do not mistake my post for a lack of empathy or any disrespect toward your mother or your loss; I have endured my fair share of such departures. Both of my parents, gone in an instant during my childhood; a sister, a grandmother who was a mother to me, friends who left too young and too suddenly, relatives, and a vast number of people whose passing I have witnessed firsthand.
I have come to realize that when a person passes, an entire world vanishes with them—a world that even those closest to them never fully understood.
And I have learned that for those who have departed, it isn't about the recognition, nor the headcount of those attending the service, nor some public acknowledgment of their true value compared to others.
That spectacle serves the ones left behind... it creates an image that allows us to grapple with our own mortality, leaving us with a comforting portrait of those who are gone.
Smiling is incredibly difficult when you are weeping inside.
And one shouldn't always have to smile, nor perform happiness, because often a forced cheerfulness is nothing more than a mask used to shroud one's own fears or despair.
One ought to draw lessons from personal loss: the need to understand others, to respect them even when—by our own judgment or the judgment of others—they seem undeserving of it, because human perfection simply does not exist.
I was present at the funeral of a woman where three of her descendants were in attendance (all of them bitterly feuding with one another due to the deceased) along with six of us, whom the woman had caused the most grief to during her lifetime.
I found myself wondering why the six of us had ended up there in the first place—and then it hit me—we weren't there to judge her. We were actually there to offer some semblance of forgiveness. Despite all her shortcomings, we chose to see the human being underneath... someone who, I’m certain, was suffering quite deeply in their own way.