Sometimes its best not to forget
I still have not got used to the idea that I shall never see her again. I am pretty sure that I never will. Nor would I want to. Some wise soul said that no matter how you try, its very difficult to remember your mothers face. At the time, I sat and wondered, and thought as hard as I could, and it was true – I couldnt quite remember her face as vividly as I could, any number of odd people that have been walked in and out of my life.
Now, its as indelible as my name written on my gym shorts! (I found them, and 35 years later, and my name is still neatly written there.)
Death is nothing.
I have just passed into another world.
I am me. You are you.
We have been for one another, we shall be forever.
Give me the name that always gave me.
Speak to me just as you have always spoken.
Don’t let your tone become sad or solemn.
Still laugh at what made us laugh together.
Pray, smile, think of me, pray with me.
Say my name at home
Just as it has always been spoken
Without special emphasis, or trace of a shadow.
Life continues to mean what it has meant:
continues to be, what it was.
The cord of our union has not broke.
Why would I be out of your thoughts,
just because I am out of your sight?
I am not far,
I’m just across the way.
You shall see, everything will be just fine.
You shall rediscover my heart,
and in it, rediscover tenderness most pure.
Dry your tears, and if you love me,
Weep no more.
I still miss you mother.
On a sister arriving.
Our family, our friends, our consorts and acquaintances.. the people that see us every day. Today my dear sister arrived, with her family in tow, and it became quite clear. Just being near to someone, doesn’t necessarily mean that you are close. I dearly love Marion, and seeing her grow into this role of mother, wife, daughter-in-law, has been one of the best experiences of my life. All this, and over the past 3 years we have probably spent 4 months together – total.
Invariably we speak, exchange emails, notes and so on, but our bond is one that I am extremely fortunate to have. Because, even though we are apart, we are always together. The hubris and muddle of our daily lives has never been exchanged in great detail, but, somehow, we know what is going
Seeing other families, other siblings interact, I can see what a balancing act we have, and how cleverly my parents have taught us to maintain it. Not so close as it becomes a cloying, super-emotional, with each of us interfering or creating a petri dish of contempt, degenerating into a strange fraternal sickness. Or indeed the long distance relationship, bereft of real love or desire to spend time with each other, but borne of a sense of duty…
I see, and hear of both these types each and every day, and its not without a little smile that I remember Marion. My sister that has tormented and humiliated, but defended and loved in equal measure. Ensured that I have always known who, or what I am, whilst making sure that the little brother is looked after, or at least asked. It strikes me that, my sister is also one of my oldest friends, and indeed, MY oldest friend, is probably hers as well, since we all went off to school the same day, when we were two-and-a-half years old.
We have complemented each other since I can remember, and every day, I hold dear that she is there, with me, nearby, with a thoughtful (or thoughtless!) word, but always my sister, My Marion.
I havent been for a while…
But, at the time it seemed like a good thing to do.
So sitting there in front of my GP I relate a series of different symptoms. These lead to some furrowed brows, and beetling around looking for a blood pressure machine, and after thats been done several times, in comes a nurse to “do it the good old fashioned way”. A manner that doesnt lead to much better news.
I have high blood pressure. More furrowed brows etc, and now its onto blood tests and urine tests and a whole host of other things as well.
Then its the knees, plenty of clicking there Christian, I think that you have early osteoarthritis.
Sounds like fun, but the first person that I thought of was my great friend Jerry. A few years ago as we trotted around Rio de Janeiro, he said “Slow down Christian, you don’t realise this now, but some time your body will start telling you to stop moving around so quickly.” At the time, even knowing that he was perfectly true…the hastiness of youth led me to stashing it in the “cross that bridge when I get there file.”
Thanks for the prophecy Jerry!
Let downs.
Someone recently said to me “Christian, you have to do, what is best for you.” At the time, I smiled and said, “ofcourse” knowing that really I didnt either understand or, agree. Since I am not the most confrontational person, I simply smiled.
Yet as it percolated through my mind over the past few days, I have come to take this as good advice. Whether I choose to follow it or not is highly unlikely.
I have been let down recently, by a great number of people. Each having their own ideas, needs and so forth. However, some of them have been downright bloody rude. Things that I really would never have thought of doing myself. Sometimes, this leads to reflection (as in the previous advice).
So, rather than writing each of them a curt note just telling them what I think of them, I shall follow the advice of my mother “what is written, stays written and cannot be unwritten”.
The buggers don’t even know who they are, however, (amongst the family members, future family members, the co-workers, friends and people that don’t even know me) all in my “black books”. At leat until tomorrow, when I shall doubtless have forgotten, forgiven…
On loss.
“No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear. I am not afraid, but the sensation is like being afraid. The same fluttering in the stomach, the same restlessness, the yawning. I keep on swallowing. At other times it feels like being mildly drunk, or concussed. There is a sort of invisible blanket between the world and me. I find it hard to take in what anyone says. Or perhaps, hard to want to take it in. It is so uninteresting. Yet I want the others to be about me. I dread the moments when the house is empty. If only they would talk to one another and not me.”
Its an odd feeling being woken up at 3 in the morning. You prepare yourself, and since we have all become so insular, not liking telephone calls at the best of times, getting one at this time is downright worrying. No one calls me, especially not at this time, and usually not when I am working in the south of Brazil.
Especially when its your sister, calling from Australia. Through the strange mist that is encompassing your head, mind and thoughts, you can, eventually grope the words she is trying to say.
“Christian, can you hear me? Christian? Mum has died.”
This was over a month ago, and really I find myself still stumbling around looking for the words that can convey either the sensory overload, and also, the stillness that follows. Its an odd ride. Filled with uncontrolled weeping, enough that really makes your whole body, shudder and jerk, which at some stage evaporates, you sit down. Reflect. Think. Cogitate. Just at the moment when you think, “I am going to be OK with this, I am going to get through this, I am going to celebrate my Mother’s life and not mourn her death” Your eyes begin choking back tears, blinking in the hope that this isnt going to start all over again.
And it does. And you are alone.