Experiencing Jenny's life and death changed how I felt about life, and about being alive.
Previously, my life was — perhaps— like that of many other shy suburban teenagers. Sure there were good moments, mostly when laughing or being silly with friends — moments of joy and even connection. But in order to get to those moments, it felt like I had to grind through much that was grey, kind of empty, and rather boring.
There was nothing particularly 'wrong' with my life, I was comfortably looked after, and my life was devoid of any real suffering. I was a child of priveledge, if not compared to many of my suburban peers, than to most of the people in the world. I had nothing to complain about.
Except a vague emptiness, a certain lack of meaning, and connection. There was no one to share what I was really thinking and feeling, deep down. I had no idea how to start such conversations, and maybe not even the knowledge that it was possible to have relationships and conversations where such sharing could take place.
In the context of all the suffering, injustice, and unmet needs present in the world, to speak of this lack seems obscene. But that doesn't make it unreal.
Maybe my lack just boiled down to being socially awkward and introverted. But I'm starting to think there is something more systemic about it. I also suspect that lack of emptiness, lack of meaning and connection goes deeper than just a 'lack of intimate friends' — even if that's how I tended to think of it at the time.
This train of thought reminds of something I saw in Geez magazine a few years ago. "Help end affluence — sponsor a comfortable Western kid!"
(The fine print is both funny and pointed, so I would encourage you to click on the image and read it).
Anyways, to end this political rant over and get back to the 'real' topic at hand, let me just say this. While walking out of of the cemetery after I had visited my friend's grave for the first time, I broke down and started crying — for the first time since hearing the news of her death a month earlier.
I truly appreciated those times I had had with her, and I was glad I had got a chance to know her. Those rather brief moments — and other moments, with others still alive — now "were enough" to make life seem worthwhile, to make wading through all that grey feel worth it.
Undoubtedly, this will sound cheesy to any outsider. But that realization unblocked a lot in me, and opened my life up to so much, both in that moment, and yet to come.
