'Maybe it is that British thing, that we are irretrievably uncomfortable in the face of open grief'
(E. Kavanagh: The Affair)
I think about this for quite a while now. And it's a mixture of sad confirmation and amazement. And from there goes my general reflection on life.
It used to be normal; life and death were part of everyday existence; back in the days where there were tribes leaving together, someone's death was a sad and joyful experience for all, depending on how they celebrated and cherished body and soul.
Today, we all neglect death. Well, maybe we do admit it exist, but only to add some romantic mystery to fictional stories about vampires, ironically. Or some dangerous beasts, that live somewhere deep in the woods. Kids, don't go deep into the woods. On your own.
Death seems to pass us by, we are all forever young, with our beauty products (which I personally use to the extreme I guess as well:_), with healthy lifestyles, with diets and gyms we go to in order to have perfect shapes, perfect bodies, perfect outer beauty.
There is little place for grief. For letting others see our downs. For being humans.