Death be not proud

"One short sleep past, we wake eternally." -John Donne

I once read that if we didn't have endorphins, we'd all be junkies. I'd never thought of it like that before- but it makes sense. Sort of. You see, endorphins block out pain. All day long, that's their function. To block out pain, physical and otherwise that would likely turn you inside-out and keep you in a fetal position. They say if you take opiates long enough- your body stops producing endorphins. And what happens when you stop taking the opiates? Well, all you feel is pain you wouldn't ordinarily feel. Everyday pain. The pain of living. Which I suppose on any given day is better than the pain of dying. But I wouldn't know. Not for certain, anyway. What I do know, what I've become familiar with, is the pain of surviving. Since the year began I've been to three wakes and funerals. I have another one to attend by the end of this week. Don't get me wrong. I'm well acquainted with loss. But it has me on the ropes lately. I'm not ashamed to say that I've taken a beating this time around. So much pain and loss in such a short span of time. Bad news phone calls and utter disbelief. Tragic intros and mournful outros. Tearful goodbyes. I had no idea it could hurt so badly. I feel wrung out. You hear it all the time: "Life is fleeting" "You just never know" "Here today, gone tomorrow" "God makes no mistakes" I've heard it all and seen too much in the past few weeks. Back-to-back deaths. Mothers burying sons. Children who won't know their fathers. It's not natural. It's not right. But who am I to say? I'm so numb at this point; without the aid of opiates. And I feel that maybe, just maybe, my endorphins are slacking on the job... because I can feel it all.