“Reviving” the dead

Don’t let your dead friends go; remember them, honour them, respect them, be thankful for their love. Grief is a process but the culmination does not have to be a denial of someone’s existence. Recovery does not have to entail a trashing of someone’s life. “Moving on” does not have to be a brutal thing.

Sometimes I move on too quickly…maybe because the pain is too great…I don’t know but I suddenly realise that “he’s gone!” How did I let that happen?
Why do I no longer pause to think of him; recollect his manner, smile, turn of phrase, humour?

The hours we spent together were so real, so special and now so unrepeatable.
Oh, where have you gone to my friends, to a lonely hole in the ground? I will not allow you die in my memory, weak that it so often is! I will regularly call you to mind and walk, and talk, and eat, and drink with you again.

Stand by me

I am sorry Allan, Lionel, John and Lynn that I could not stand by you when you crossed over
I was not even aware of the moment when you breathed your last
I did not stand by you

I have always wondered why I am not aware of another’s passing
I feel as if I should know when a dear friend slips away
I do not understand

I…that’s the trouble…it’s not about me at all
They had completed their journey
I do not need to understand!

Lynn Johnston

We lift her to the skies
While water fills our eyes
We hold her in our hearts
While our very being smarts

We remember her with deepest joy
She did herself with such grace employ
We struggle to think of her as gone
She was always so very strong

We give thanks for her life so true
Her bravery and integrity so well we knew
We struggle to let her go
Her love and affection stirred us so

Hope springs

Hope springs eternal in the human breast
Alexander Pope

The preacher, delivering a sermon at a memorial service, stated as fact that an atheist can offer a dying person absolutely no hope. A Christian, on the other hand, can offer real hope of eternal life through faith in Jesus.
The death of a loved one was recognized as a sad event but the coffin was not present and the emphasis was on passing from this life to the next. A simple cross over from this to that but only possible if you are a believer.

I wanted to raise my hand in objection but it was hardly appropriate seeing that I was conducting the service for a dear friend who had lost his wife. The arrogance and certainty of fundamentalist preachers continues to rile me.
The only “evidence” they have for their startling claims comes from a selective and literal reading of the bible.
There is no discussion; this is the real deal and that’s it!

Here is my response to his claim.
Hope is a scarce commodity. It is difficult to keep a small spark of hope alive in the midst of the darkness that threatens to overwhelm us at present. All the more reason to select our sources of hope with great care. It is wise to look for signs of hope in the real world. Building castles in the air is dangerous. Religion urges us to place our hope in the life hereafter but the only life that is tangible is the present one.

Even in our scary political landscape, there are good men and women on whom we can rely. There are still excellent educators within the caldron of our educational system. There are fine doctors in our health care system, despite many having left for greener pastures. When we have been divorced or retrenched, when we have relocated, when our children have flown the coop, when we are sick or dying, hope can be found in facing reality squarely and accepting proffered helping hands.

Being told that my mother, who died at a young age, is safe in the hereafter provides me with little hope or comfort. Sharing my pain, while looking into the eyes of another caring fellow traveler, ignites a spark of hope.
I am buoyed by the awareness that we are all in this together. It is cruel to offer someone false hope; it used to be called “pie in the sky when you die”. The provision of realistic hope, based on the everyday world of experience, is no small thing (despite what the preacher may think). All I want to hear when I am struggling is; “you will not have to handle this on your own!”

Footnote:
A terminally ill person can be offered hope apart from a nebulous promise of an afterlife. Pain control, control of nausea, physical comfort, a quiet room, regular turning to prevent bed sores, retention of dignity and most important the presence of a caring other at all times. This is the reason for the existence of hospice.

Weep with those who weep

Jesus stood outside the tomb of Lazarus and wept! Somehow weeping is not quite the same as crying. A small girl falls off a playground swing and runs to her mother crying. Yes, she is in pain but not the pain of grief.

Betty was the doctor in charge of a large hospice. Betty had known personal grief, perhaps that helped, but she showed sorrow when confronted with death.
Her glasses could not conceal the tears welling up as she talked about pain.

Jenny, on the other hand, was always smiling and laughing. She would convey an item of very bad news and finish up giggling. A psychologist, who knew her, said to me “beware of a person who displays inappropriate emotion”!
Laugh with those who laugh, weep with those who weep.

Loss of a pet

I am fully aware that a great deal has been written about this subject, however, the loss of a pet – like all losses – is a very personal thing.
In my case, obviously not worse than any one else’s, the circumstances of the loss continue to unsettle me.

Maybe it’s simply because I’m older and am therefore even more affected by the loss of a beloved pet.
The size of the animal, a Great Dane, didn’t help either – she was almost the same weight as me! The fact that I was kind of rushed into it because of a pending overseas trip also played with my mind. And the drip needle hurt her and she jerked back and blood sprayed over the floor…
Afterwards she lay in a position that looked so much like her normal sleeping pose. And then of course came the removal of her body in a plastic bag…the last straw!

But most of all it’s the usual loss of satisfactions that bedevil my soul; no more patting the considerable flanks, no more playing with the large ears, no more kissing the lovely soft head, no more silly name calling and “teasing”. What a character, what a giant soul; gentle, loving, warm and funny. Move on I must, so a new baby fur kid will one day occupy her space. This time a quite different breed…I could not give my heart to another giant.

“The long and winding road”

Wandering down the long, winding and devious road of grief and nihilism
Remembering her soft coat, it’s smell, her long ears and muzzle
Her pronounced knowledge bump and, of necessity, cropped tail
The faint traces of black on her fawn chest
She was supposed to be black
But as with most things, she broke the mould

This giant of a dog, this giant spirit now reduced to dust and ashes
This monument to canine love and gentleness completely destroyed
A small wicker basket, with her name, is all that she needs
Tears ooze, throat closes, words of consolation fail
This great friend has gone; no more leaning on thighs, no more noisy dreams
No more teasing, bunching loose skin, folding ears, gently punching sides and most of all no more kissing and pressing of face against her neck

Thank you Emma for the wonderful life you shared so generously

Dog gone

Premeditated, ambushed and despatched without any preparation…that’s how I feel after having to euthanize my eleven and a half year old Great Dane. I have done the deed several times but it doesn’t get any easier. The brain goes first, the body later said the vetenarian…whatever, it’s a bad experience.

The well-meaning words of friends and strangers don’t help either.
“She was weak and possibly in pain.”
“She was showing signs of dementia.”
“She had far exceeded her life expectancy.”
“She is not suffering any more.”
“You did your best for her.”

I still feel like a cad, a despicable cad!
Intellectually I “get it” but emotionally I am repulsed.
Anyway, allow me to salute a wonderful companion, friend and protector.
A truly gentle giant who was loved by all and who was “there for us” through some difficult times.

I will always love you Emma!

Death of God

Today Christians around the world remember the “Death of God” on the Cross.
It is a story that is capable of moving the most detached soul. The needless suffering, especially of a good person, is always distressing.

On Remembrance Day people around the world remember the death of millions of soldiers and civilians in the two World Wars. Moving ceremonies take place at memorials and cenotaphs. The waste of life is grimly remembered.

All very appropriate but what about those good people who die daily at the hands of others? In the last few days 150 people were killed by a mentally ill co-pilot and 170 young people by fanatical Muslim fighters!

Surely God “dies” every time one person kills another?

Level crossing

Speed kills!

 

Two young first year university students drive in front of a train and leave a community under a black cloud of grief. Lives and loves just begun, now in a minute ended! Is there not a spark of meaning anywhere out there?

The community has been poorly served, especially by “the people of faith”. They have been led to believe that everything has a purpose, that this life is only a rehearsal, that a divine being has everything in control.

From knee-high they have been schooled in what to expect from life. Disaster and adversity were never catered for, only triumph would rule the day. Not seeing that even triumph can be an imposter!

How fragile life is, how suddenly it can all just come to an end! Is this pessimistic, paranoid, perverse? No, not at all, the scouts have it right by being prepared! Know the dangers that walk the streets! Know that tragedy is not metered out to those who deserve it; tragedy is just one of the many actors on the stage of life.