Entry 11. Fhellungheist

Fhellungheist

The overwhelming sadness of burying a family member who never forgave you

Death by design is the end of a journey. Any which way you look at it, what was given to you at the beginning is taken back when you respire no more. Perhaps because of our innate love for journeys and purpose, this is why death is so painful; it is the ultimate. We should make absolute that all of our affairs are in order before old man death comes knocking. In some instances, this can prove tough. Life, and family, have a way of testing our resolve, to bring out how magnanimous we may, or may not be.

A zen master once said, if you think you're so enlightened, go spend a weekend back home with your parents. How painful it is to harm those you call family. At the same time, how easy it is too. Sometimes these wounds are direct and exacting, in other circumstances the pain is secondary or residual. However it may come, there are those of us who will not be able to let go of the pain. It grows into a sort of comfort blanket, an issue of identity we wouldn't like to let go of. Whether or not it turns us bitter, whether or not it poisons us, doesn't matter, as long as it stays till that old man comes knocking.

This is the sorrow of fhellungheist. Even if you, the perpetrator, choose to let it go, even if you've asked for forgiveness, you watch as someone you love drinks the poison of resentment, and never asks for the antidote.