Have You Ever Buried Someone? (a mess of analogies and what have you....)

Have you ever buried someone?

Not physically.

Not in any way that gets dirt beneath your nails or through your clothes. Not in any way that makes your muscles ache or your palms burn. Not in any real, tangible way.

Just in a way that matters.

One changes as time passes. Sometimes it's sudden, other times slow - but one always does. Those that don't are unnatural.

But when you're a child, there are interests and games you enjoy. Tea parties, or Hotwheels, or Cops and Robbers, or Ghost stories and Barbies - does it really matter? There always comes a point where childhood is set aside. The little boy in t-short and stained shorts and the girl in her ragged princess dress will get shoved further and further back until one is standing beside a grave that was dug and filled in with their own hands.

And this person rarely comes back from the grave, whether as a ghost or a true person again. Once the child is buried, the ground is undisturbed. For some people, this funeral is early. For others, the child lives for many years before it is put to rest.

But none truly miss it when it is buried. In fact, they may be relieved. Later, when they return to the grave, they may regret it - but never in the moment. Then, it is necessary and wanted - whether to fit in with others, or live up to expectations, or simple to take care of those around them.... In the moment, it is necessary.

But this is only the first burial. There are always more. There are many, many more to come. Some are mourned more freely, some are buried in secret, some buried alive, and some are torn away and buried by others - but they all end the same: all lost beneath layers until secrets and truths and history and future is forgotten.

Have you ever had a secret?  As a teenager acted differently when out of your parent's sight? As an adult had a different face for work than in public, and a different face at home than either?

These are all different people.

They have the same foundation, and the same facets - but they are different. Perhaps it's a single interest that would not go over well in the professional world. Perhaps it's a educational interest in highschool that one hides from parents or friends to avoid mockery. Maybe it's a taste in music, or a taste in clothes, or a taste in books, or a love for art - whatever it is, it shapes a different person.

These faces all taken together equal the complete truth - but who can show all these at once? At what point does someone ever feel comfortable enough to show all of their facets, if they even can? To them, each facet shines in a different light - in a different place. To move to another facet is to move to a different light and the original facet no longer shines - it is a different view.

And so the others are buried.

Have you ever buried someone?

Sometimes the funeral is forgotten. Sometimes it is of someone dear. Sometimes it is hasty for a regret. Sometimes is is unsurprising, and other times it's ripped out of you.

But it's always there.

But there is nothing.