For years I’ve been fairly stoic and emotionless about death. This is partly a reflection of my faith. I am hopeful that there is something better for us after our physical body gives out. And I truly believe that God doesn’t give us anything we can’t handle. These two things help me see the bigger picture and give me perspective when I’m mired in the momentary feelings of grief and loss and fear and confusion.

But I also think my lack of reaction comes, in part, from overexposure. I had to deal with death early and often in my life. Many people attend their first funeral when a grandparent naturally passes away at an older age. Or their first brush with tragedy happens when a high school classmate is involved in an accident. Not me. Unexpected and upsetting deaths seemed to be the major milestones in my adolescence. Some were more personal than others, but each managed to sear certain unforgettable details into my psyche.

Now it’s happened again. One of my dear friend’s father passed away in the middle of the night. While he had been ill, this was still a premature death. And it’s particularly upsetting to me, in that he’s the first of our parents who have passed away. I’ve mentioned before that my childhood friends and I and all our families are incredibly close. My parents and all their friends all had kids around the same time, and we were raised almost as brothers and sisters rather than just friends. Their parents are like mine, in many cases. In our little circle, raising children, going on vacation, feeding people, celebrating the good times and supporting each other through the bad times has always been a group effort.

So for the first parent to pass away is pretty monumental. Although he was a bit older than my parents, his passing can’t help but bring up thoughts of my own parents’ mortality and what I will do when I no longer have their physical presence in my life.

But for some reason this, and a few other things that have happened lately, has also brought up issues for me on how I handle death. And I think I have some major issues. I think what happened when I was younger affected me more than I’ve ever wanted to admit. I should not be emotionless about some of the things to which I’ve been exposed.

It is not right to wake up on Christmas morning to find out your neighbor and your friend’s mom took her own life the night before.

It is not right to wake up on Christmas morning to find out that two men escaped from prison and murdered your father’s colleague and his wife the night before. (Not the same Christmas, thank goodness.)

It is not right to, at 12 years old, see your mother so desperately sad to lose her young friend to breast cancer.

It is not right to, later that same year, see the decimated car of an older acquaintance who died in an accident that morning be slowly towed past your classroom window.

It is not right to, at 16 years old, the summer before your senior year, the year that’s supposed to be your best ever, hold your best friend in her hospital bed and feel the life slip out of her, a young and vital life that was shockingly destroyed by a rare form of leukemia that managed to do its dirty work in less than two weeks, start to finish.

It is not right to pull into your driveway for your first weekend back home from college, only to see your mom and old boyfriend waiting for you in the driveway, so they can break the news to you that another dear friend had passed away earlier that afternoon, on Friday the 13th, no less.

It is not right to have to teach your little brother how to handle the loss of a friend when he loses his best one in a tragic gun accident.

And it is not right, the way your friend’s voice sounds over the phone when you call to check on her early in the morning, just a few hours after she lost her dear daddy.

These things are not right. Death is inevitable, but I need to give myself permission to stop pretending that it’s alright.

Today, I am going to be sad. I am going to be angry. I may rage, in fact. I am going to say the f-word out loud, very loud, as in “This f*cking sucks!!!!!” because it does. I am going to think ugly thoughts. I may even throw up from crying so hard.

Today I am going to feel. And that’s OK.