Death

How do we deal with this? Someone who was instrumental in making us who we are? An important piece of our youth.
The pieces of who we are come from our basic self and the influence of those who were there when we were children. Some things, some parts of us, can not be separated from the past.
How do I accept the death of the tall, handle-bar mustachioed man who was always a presence? They are who we are, in some way. They were there, at birth, at the inception of consciousness, not the realization of being, but the realization of a separate person. I am not them. They are not me. They are still part of me.
All those who were around us, neighbors, friends, teachers, relatives... All were part of making us who we are. Our very environment, where we lived, how we lived, also made us who we are.
There is so much more to us, so much more... we are so much more than just our own biological selves. We are all those who were there, for good or bad. All the presences in our lives have made us who we are.
The bagger at the market. The guy on the corner. Even more so, our family.
How much does family influence us? More than we accept, or want. Genes, yes. Other things more powerful than genes? Yes, indeed.
How do we learn to deal with grief? Pain? Rage? Anger? From those around us. Those who were there when we were small are still with us in our responses. Our reactions.
This one, this one who is now gone? Made me laugh. He made a difference in me... a part of me.
Forever.

Rest well, Jerry. I love you still.