Laura Levitt's Talk

I find myself having a difficult time deciding what to write as a response to this week. Loss is something that I am all too familiar with. I am 20 years old, and I need more than my two hands in order to count the number losses that I consider "personal". I am 20 years old, and I have to actually sit down and almost write out a list of the number of people who have died in my recent past because there are so many that I can't readily think of them. Some died from natural causes. Some were taken prematurely. Many actually took their own life.
I guess I don't see how being Jewish has anything to do with loss. And if anyone has ever been envious or felt left out that they didn't have anyone in their past who died in the Holocaust, then I feel sorry for them. I feel sorry for them because if they even remotely have the nerve to be upset that someone in their family didn't DIE, then they obviously need to seriously re-evaluate their view of life and loss. Death is about being human; it is not about being Jewish. It is basic human nature, and while it brings relief to some, it brings grief to all.
I don't need to have someone in my family who died in the Holocaust. My papa was a doctor in WWII, and that's the closest that I have. But when I lost my papa, I cared more than I possibly could if I had never met him. Sure, he may have died in the war, he may have died a hero for his people. But he didn't die in the war--he died when he did, and he was a hero to me and everyone who knew him. I may not be able to identify with the others of current generations who lost someone in the Holocaust, but I can identify with those of the past. I can identify with those who were only 20 years old and needed more than their two hands to count the number of loses they considered "personal". I can identify with those who were only 20 years old and had to actually sit down and almost write out a list of the number of people who had died in their recent past because there were so many that they couldn't readily think of them. Some died from natural causes. Some were taken prematurely. Many actually took their own life. I can identify with them because I am one of them. Not because I'm Jewish, not because I'm not-Jewish, but because I'm human.
What have I learned from personal loss? I've learned that I need to keep going. I've learned that you only have one life, and even when all you want to do is make it end, you can't. You can't and you won't. So you say a little prayer, you go to sleep, you wake up in the morning, and you keep going. And it gets better. You will start to form a new spirituality, a new reason for living. You will start to teach others about what loss really is, so that they can be ready for it when the time comes. And you start to realize that yes, being given this position is not fair, but it's what you've got, and it was given to you for a reason, and so you make the best of it.
I don't know if this was really the response you were looking for, but I guess Laura's discussion just provoked a part of me that's been waiting to release its frustration. I don't know if I'm completely disagreeing with what she has to say, but I know that there are some areas of life which transcend any possible religious, cultural, national, or spiritual identity, and one of those areas is death.