What about me?

It is not often I feel sorry for myself and what I am about to share, although might read like I could be doing just that, (certainly the title eludes to such maudlin). But I hope that from sharing these sentiments, you will read that they stem from a far deeper place and in writing them to the surface, I hope they might be transformed into a place of peace. 

I lost a close friend recently. His death was unexpected and as he had been living on his own, his body wasn't found until after the alarm was raised on the 3rd day of him not turning up for his work. I don't know what makes me more sad, the fact that he is dead, or that his death remained undiscovered for a few days. 

But Tim lived his life with minimal fuss. I believe he died the way he existed. Quietly and never making a scene. He was found lying on his bed and I can only hope for his ending to be peaceful and painless. I had spoken to him only a few days prior to his passing. I was compelled to call him, the feeling came as an urgency that I must speak with him. We had a good conversation, but during that time, I had feeling that our souls were saying goodbye. As we were chatting, I kept seeing my 2 Springer Spaniels in my minds eye. Their presence was so visceral, that I found myself communicating with them, asking what they were doing here. It all made sense after I learnt of Tim's death. They were there to help guide him home. Tim adored my 2 dogs and they in turn adored him. He was their favourite Uncle. 

Tim was dependable and was always popping in to see them after work. He even had a dogs bed permanently by his log burner so that they would feel at home whenever they went to stay if ever I were away. But it wasn't just the dogs he looked after. 

I met Tim when I was in my late 20's. He was volunteering for the Watercress line, painting the old stations and I used to see him in the village pub afterwards. It wasn't long before I joined the crew and from there on in, Tim became a close friend. I introduced him to my friends and family and before long, he would come along to family holidays, family events as well as joining in with all our Christmas gatherings. Tim saw me through relationship breakup's, he would help pick up the pieces during all my tumultuous periods of life without judgement. He cared deeply and I know that there would have been a time he would have gladly stepped into my boyfriends shoes. I am ashamed to admit it, but at the time, I didn't handle his feelings well, young and immature that I was back then. Fortunately for me, he forgave my carelessness, we somehow muddled through and an even deeper unspoken bond formed. But it is surprising how in death, you realise how little you know of someone, even a twenty year friendship, there are secrets and untold truths. Perhaps it was the nature of his work that kept him so private. There was so much he couldn't share with me or indeed anyone and in more recent years as his work evolved, the void of the unsaid became wider and the chasm of our friendship grew. Nonetheless, in all connections, there exists a far deeper form of interaction and we don't have to be near one another to know how the other is feeling. And even now, although Tim no longer resides on earth in the physical, I can sense him from afar. But it doesn't stop me missing him. 

Tim hasn't been the only friend to die this year though, and I have found myself wondering who will I have left to reminisce of the old days over a cuppa. Who will be here to remember me when I die and speak of the life that I lived and the achievements I made?

What is making things even harder for the emotions of grief to be possessed, is that there has been no funeral for Tim. Not even a memorial or celebration of his life. It was his wish. However for those left behind, I am not sure how conducive it is, to not have the opportunity to share ones grief within a community of people who knew him. Did he think his friendships were so inconsequential that he didn't think it mattered? Or did he feel that he was unworthy of anyone caring enough to take the time to remember the life that he once lived?

As a consequence. the weight lays heavy on my shoulders right now, to continue sharing our memories we shared together for the fear of his life being forgotten.

Perhaps this is the way of all things. Our legacies won't be left in the stuff we leave behind, or the thoughts or things we believe are ours to own, but rather marks we leave in peoples hearts. 

Our memories of the souls gone before us, will be told through the art of storytelling and stories will become entwined with the lives of the people that are telling them. Tales of tenacity, courage and bravery, humbleness, and quiet determination, will be shared across the land. Maybe it is not important to remember the names of who they began with, or even where they will end, as long as they help inspire, encourage and offer comfort. Perhaps part of living is learning the art of letting go. We are here for just a moment in time. We cannot take anything with us when we die, so when we really think about it, how strange it is that we are so obsessed with the need to define ourselves through identity and possessions. I know that how I will remember Tim will probably be very different to how someone else who knew him. What a rich tapestry of experiences our stories contain. All that remains will be nothing but love.

Dying Matters.

A set of illustrated cards I made based on the connation's of died

 A villager died last week. It matters not the details, after all, there are family, friends and neighbours grieving including myself and it would be disrespectful to share details in such personal matters

However, their death has  raised my curiosity and it reminds me to keep talking about dying matters however challenging or difficult the topic might be, especially if it raises some really important and perhaps potentially problematic issues. But I am the sort of person who likes to find solutions rather than bury my head in the sand and pretend death will never catch up with us all, and so the more I can learn about the potential scenarios, pitfalls and hazards of dying, the better equipped I can be to help support people and their loved ones  through to the very end.

For example. Why does it take 3 emergency response vehicles to arrive at a dying persons residence? 
There will of course be some very rational reasons for such course of action.
One of the biggest ones perhaps, was that no one knew they were dying. But given that they had been challenged with life-limiting health for very a long time, in a great deal of pain and discomfort that had  been getting worse in very recent years and months, could not leave their home other than for long stay visits at the hospital, suggests that there wasn't a lot of quality to life towards the end.
However, quality is subjective and we must be very careful to not make judgements on what brings quality into somebody else's life.
So how do we know then when someone is dying?
If they haven't been given a life expectancy timeline by someone in the medical field due to disease or illness, but that person has lived a life and has arrived at a point in life where no medical intervention will improve ones vitality. How can we help prepare them and ourselves for the eventual inevitable?
Dying may take years. But from the day we are born, we are already on the trajectory to death. It is a given that non of us will get out alive. So why is it that we have such a hard time talking about it? 
I believe we are giving ourselves a huge disservice by not sharing our thoughts and fears about our demise.
I wish I could have talked freely to my neighbour about their own thoughts, but to even broach the subject might have come across as not believing in their strength and tenacity to keep on living despite their pain, would they have thought I was giving up on them? 
The irony of all of this though, is that maybe they did want to talk? - Or maybe they didn't. But by simply lacking the courage on either side to even begin a conversation, one will never know now.
And by not talking about how we want our ending to look, we can rarely help each other out to allow that to take place. So instead, our ending might look like a roomful of paramedics and strangers, preventing the ones we really care about from entering the scene because dying can be deemed as ugly and traumatic for the untrained layman.
I do not deny that dying in some if not many circumstances can be ugly and messy.
I was fortunate to be with my Gran when she died. Her death was in an A&E department. They gave us the courtesy to close the curtains off for a bit of privacy, but it doesn't shut off the noise and bustle of others patients getting revived and carted off to wherever they needed to be. We were surrounded by messiness and trauma, but in those hours, all that mattered was holding the space to allow my gran to die. They took me aside to explain what was happening, but I already knew. They asked if I wanted her revived. I told them no, but of course, this was not my decision to make, so I called my mother but again I already knew the answer, and so eventually after some hours, I cannot recall, my Gran left this world as I held her hand and stroked her hair letting her know it was going to be ok. A short while afterwards, my parents arrived.
My grans death was the first one I had experienced. Since then, it has been my pets and a friends mother, but with every death, there is a sacredness to the process leading up to it and even afterwards.
It is a time for deep connection. Time stands still and if one can remain present, there is an energy to it that in itself is more than life itself.
If only we could all find the courage to know that our time is limited and to start talking about how and more importantly where we want to spend our last years, months, weeks, days and hours, maybe we can all give ourselves the sacred dying experience we all deserve.
I will be 48 years old this year. I hope that I have many years left in me, but nothing is a given, I have had to say goodbye to friends even younger than me already this year.
I may be unlucky to be struck down by a bus or a disease. But I have shared my thoughts and fears with my husband. I have written out a death plan which hope will at least give some indication on how I wish to live out my remaining time. I wish also to fill out a RESPECT form which can be filled out with your GP or health provider.
And while we are at it, it is really important to think about applying for your power of attorney, if you haven't already, both for financial and health & wellbeing. Tomorrow may never come for some of us. Lets help empower our loved ones to do the right thing by us. We deserve it and so do they.
For anyone curious to know more, I found this campaign  useful for lots of information.