death

Day 674

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Coming up to Saagar’s second anniversary in a couple of months, this piece of writing by another mother really touched my heart…

The Forest

When I first embarked on my grief path after my child took her life, I thought that it would be linear and each step would become easier until maybe one day I would walk out into the sunshine again. And in the first few months, I looked at others I met who were two or three years down the line and wondered why some of them seemed to be still stuck in what I thought were the early stages of their grief. How naïve of me!

I have come to realise that this grief journey is incredibly complicated and is more like being lost and stranded in a forest. To begin with everything was dark and foreboding; it felt like the forest would completely engulf me and at every twist and turn there would be branches catching at me and roots making me stumble and fall, and muddy, murky swamps wanting to drown me. I felt I was living in a horror movie at worst or a frightening children’s story book at best. After a while I was so determined not to let the forest take me over that I created a glade where I thought I would be safe from the shadows. I tried really hard to be positive and see some sense in my loss.

Now, coming up to three years on, at times the path can be straight and I think I know where it is going and there are more and more times when it passes through one of those sunlit glades and I can bask in the warmth and feel nothing can touch me. But I never know when the trees will close in and what monsters might be hiding behind them; and sometimes the path feels like it’s doubling back on itself and I have no idea where I’m going. But I have come to trust that I will always find a way through the tangled undergrowth eventually and walk with my eyes looking forward and upwards towards the light rather than into the darkness and despondency.

Along this path I have been so privileged to have met others who are walking the walk in their own way. Some sadly are completely engulfed by and lost in their forest and can barely put one foot in front of the other; and others seem like they know where they are going and walk strongly and steadfastly, sometimes wearing the cloak of invincibility to the outside world as a means of protection, but they too can stumble and fall and need a helping hand or a kind word.

But it is a difficult, painful and exhausting path however we travel it. And there is no right or wrong way to walk it and each person must find their own way through their forest. If you are one of the people I have met on this trail, I want you to know how much I respect your fortitude, courage and strength.

If you were there before I entered the forest and are still walking alongside me through the darkness and the light, I give you my love, my thanks and my heartfelt gratitude, particularly as I know many of you are finding your own way through your own heartache and grief.

And if you are reading this and know anyone who is stumbling through their own dark, tangled place then please reach out a hand to them and maybe catch them before they fall.

And to my beautiful child I want to say thank you for often showing me the way.

Love and light

Day 670

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One blue ankle sock, two rolls of string- one open and the other sealed, one fine-tipped black sharpie pen, one portable cycle pump, one drum stick, three beer bottle caps – one Carlsberg and two Desperados, one black bow-tie, one black wallet with an ID and a few receipts from a college bar, a paperback in French by Jacques Godbout called ‘Salut Galarneau!’, an English translation of an Egyptian book called ‘Maze of Justice : Diary of a Country Prosecutor’ by Tawfik Al-Hakim and a hardback black journal partly covered in his hand-writing and a purple hair colour spray.

And the smell of old things.

These things were unearthed from the bottom of his cymbal bags today just before I was about to give them away to his friend and drum teacher who he had great admiration for. Each one of these things was a thread from different stories from various parts of his life. I couldn’t remember them all but these were familiar things – real but distant. Seeing all these random things on the table, I felt he was here, reaching out to me. They encapsulated him so utterly completely and beautifully. He felt heart-breakingly close.

I want to ask him to remind me the things I am forgetting. Please. Remind me. Please.

Day 665

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Another chapel.
Another service.
Another departure without a good-bye.
Another bunch of people in grief and black.
Another room full of sniffles and sorrow.
Another beautiful smile forever loved and missed.
Another reminder of indiscriminate randomness.
Another family’s future laid to rest.
Another opportunity to remember what’s important.
Another place to experience deep love.

Despite never having met any of M’s( a friend from work) family before, I could guess who’s who just by looking at them. Her hubby and her boys absolutely fitted her descriptions. Her youngest graduated this year without his Mum by his side. I found myself in juxtaposition with him. I could feel their shock from her sudden departure and could also see the strength they derived from one another. It was a familiar place. Through the people and conversations I got to know her so much better. I could recognise her sense of humour in the eulogies. It runs in the family.

On so many occasions we agreed that we should meet outside of work but that somehow never happened. Every time we made a plan, something got in the way. I wish…

Her sisters told me how much my friendship with M meant to her. It meant a lot to me too but I never really told her that in so many words. I wish…

I love you M.
Thank you for being my friend.
It has been an absolute joy and privilege to know you.

Bye-bye Miss American Pie!

Day 662

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“I sit beside the fire and think
Of all that I have seen
Of meadow flowers and butterflies
In summers that have been

Of yellow leaves and gossamer
In autumns that there were
With morning mist and silver sun
And wind upon my hair

I sit beside the fire and think
Of how the world will be
When winter comes without a spring
That I shall ever see

For still there are so many things
That I have never seen
In every wood in every spring
There is a different green

I sit beside the fire and think
Of people long ago
And people that will see a world
That I shall never know

But all the while I sit and think
Of times there were before
I listen for returning feet
And voices at the door”
― J.R.R. Tolkien

 

Day 659

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‘Centre for Immortality’ it calls itself, a place where death can possibly be reversed. It claims to be just an extension of emergency medicine that aims to stretch time for us mere mortals. It uses high tech procedures to retrieve bodies of people within a few minutes of their clinical death and then subjects them to cryopreservation. The aim is to minimize the rate of cellular degeneration. The blood is substituted with medical antifreeze and the bodies are kept at -196 degrees until such time as medical technology advances far enough to treat the condition the person died of. In other words, resurrect them.

Max More is the CEO of this company called Alcor Life Extension Foundation based in Arizona, USA. According to him, ”Who’s to say that in 100 years we won’t have some kind of nanotechnology that can fix cells at an individual level and repair what’s necessary to return someone to good health. We think of cryonics as a scientific experiment. People that are buried or cremated are our control group and so far, everyone in the control group has died.”

There are many arguments for and against this project. I am not sure what death is but it certainly is more than just the cessation of cellular function. For me it also involves the departure of some kind of a subtle life force from the body that cannot be reinstated merely by cellular regeneration. If these bodies are brought back to cellular life, what force of the universe would animate them? This sounds awfully like the perfect way of creating zombies.

Who knows!