Memories

Day 732

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As I stepped out of the door early this morning I was struck by a big huge sphere in the sky, a pale silvery moon on a pinkish blue canvas seemed to be sitting just at the end of my street. It was so close, I felt I could reach out and touch it.

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(Saagar’s last message on facebook)

It was the same moon as on 8th october 2014. It was in the same phase too. Full!
He saw it and probably felt it’s energy strongly enough to comment on it.
There is a clear co-relation between high tidal waves and a full moon night. We are made up of roughly 70 % water. So, it must have some effect on us too. Is it possible that the sub-conscious mind finds greater expression on a full moon night? Some psychiatrists and mental health nurses swear that they see more patients around this phase but scientific research does not support that.

The article below shines some light on the subject. It goes on to say that there is a higher incidence of animal bites at this time and some police forces put a larger number of staff on duty on full moon nights as they expect more trouble. Some studies have shown that people report a relatively poor quality of sleep around this phase. After all, the term ‘lunatic’ has its roots in ‘lunar’.(http://www.bbc.com/future/story/20131029-does-a-full-moon-make-people-mad). But there are no clear answers.

 Shall we just blame it on the moon?

Day 731

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Last night as I went to bed, like many times before I prayed for a quiet peaceful death in my sleep. Facing another day has often been a terribly treacherous prospect. A heart so shattered, wonder how it keeps me alive!

I woke up knowing today marked the same wretched point in the circle of time where we were 2 years ago – the same dark spot that has smudged the rest of my days, the same dagger that has gouged an incurable agonising hole in my being.

Finding excuses to stay in bed for a bit longer I turned my phone on. The first message was from a friend who had lit a few candles in Saagar’s memory and said she was thinking of us today. Then over the course of the day there were similar messages and phone calls from Saagar’s friends, their parents, our friends and family. I was amazed that so many people reached out to us. So many didn’t know Saagar and so many I have never met. It was truly healing and life-affirming. Yes. Together we can keep Saagar’s memory alive. And that of many other innocent young people like him. They will not be forgotten. Their life and death will not be a waste. Their stories will be told and retold till lessons that need to be learnt are learnt.

We held a traditional hindu prayer ceremony called ‘havan’ at home in the afternoon. Havan is a ritual of making offerings such as grains and ghee into a consecrated fire and invoking one or more deities. It is accompanied by chanting of Sanskrit prayers and mantras. It is said to purify the environment and allow for transformation of individuals. As I made those offerings into the fire, it made me think of the symbolism of surrendering anger, regret and guilt to the Gods so they could be transformed to love and empathy.

The day wasn’t so wretched after all.
It was a reminder of the enduring nature of love.

Thank you Saagar for being my son and for being you.
Thank you all for reaching out.

Day 729

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There’s a box underneath my study table. Inside it there is a lovingly handmade pink valentine’s card addressed to him, a photo-booth picture of four teenagers with contorted shapes and faces, a secondary school magazine, a ladybird book called “Don’t worry William”, a key-ring with a bottle opener, a house key and a drum key strung on to it, a school ID card with his picture on it, a well stamped blue passport, a black diary with frayed corners, a lock of curly black hair lovingly stapled in an old plastic bag falling out of a baby-book, an oyster travel card, a sea-wolves t-shirt without sleeves, a union jack underwear, a black and white patterned arab scarf, a red and white cricket ball….

Daft and silly bits.
Useless! Utterly useless!

The smell, the voice, the shared laughter, the cuddles, the food … life.

“What have I left now you have gone
Where are my dreams, my hopes, my fears
I stand in shadows where the sun once shone
Does the mist arise or do I see through tears.” – Anon

Day 727

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We got the TV installed just before my parents came to stay for a few weeks. We hardly ever watch it. This evening I happened to switch it on as I was alone at home. I watched a film on the Aberfan disaster, a catastrophic collapse of a coal mine spoil tip in a small Welsh village. This occured in October 50 years ago and claimed the lives of 116 primary school kids. One of the snippets showed the utter chaos of it and mothers standing in a long row, passing rubble and bricks away from the disaster site. The mums, now in their 70s and 80s choked up while relating the experience and shared the pictures and sweet little belongings of their kids. They also remembered the great difficulty they had in surviving this immense loss. They wondered what their wee ones would be like as grown ups. They would be in their 50s now!

Wow! What must that be like!

It’s strange that while I actively seek out programmes on mental health related issues and thus manage my deep sense of loss, when I am not seeking anything out, the radio, TV or life bring me face to face with it.

12th of October 2014 was a Sunday. Diwali, the festival of lights was less than 2 weeks away. Diwali signifies joy, love, reflection, resolution and knowledge and represents victory of good over evil and light over darkness. The annual Diwali Mela was being celebrated at Trafalgar Square. Saagar and I went along to that and ran into a photographer friend who took a few pictures.

I had no idea that those would be our last pictures together. Was I in darkness then and now I am in light? Or was I in light then and now I am in darkness? I don’t know.

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This is one of those pictures. This is what a terminally ill person looks like.

With all due respect to parents whose kids have suffered cancer, I sometimes wish Saagar had cancer. It would have been taken seriously and looked after by specialists. I would have been given some facts, figures and things to watch out for. I would have had a chance to tell him how much I love him. I would have had a chance to say good-bye.

Day 726

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Sarah Fitchett is a neonatal nurse and a lecturer. She is also a mother bereaved through suicide. Like me, she is affiliated with PAPYRUS Prevention of Young Suicide Charity by way of fundraising and awareness raising. This is an e-mail from her:

“I delivered an awareness session to GPs in Birmingham last week and they were desperate for more training.  They were literally asking me,
“What should I say?”
“What if the answer is yes?”
“What am I looking for?
“There are no services available to signpost young people to – CAMHS is so stretched”
“How will I know?”
“How do I cope with losing a patient to suicide?”
I really hope they will come on ASIST.  Such a lot of work is needed. One of our young volunteers, a mental health nurse from Bristol self-funded a place on ASIST because she had no idea how to help someone at risk of suicide, neither did any of her colleagues. Her training hadn’t covered it and there was no training available to her.  A WM police officer self-funded a place on ASIST and used her annual leave to attend because so very much of her role is attending people in crisis.”

This is an article she’s written about the absence of suicide prevention training on the nurse’s curriculum and the stigma associated with suicide within the medical community: http://theconversation.com/even-nurses-arent-immune-to-the-stigma-of-suicide-66008

11th October 2014 was a saturday. I had tickets for the Omid Djalili show for us. Saagar loved stand-up comedy and I thought it might help him. He sat on my right. I watched his responses. He appeared to be under a cloud. He did laugh but his laughter was subdued. At break time I bought him a drink and for some strange reason it felt like a significant happening, like an unforgettable scene in an iconic film. It was the last time I bought him a drink. It was the last time we went for a show together.

Let us do everything we can to save young lives.

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Thank you Omid for bringing him some happiness. Even if it was short-lived.

But then, everything is temporary, short lived!