Monthly Archives: December 2015

Love And Loss

I thought for a few days about whether or not I’d publish this post. I knew I’d write it, because that’s sort of the point, but I didn’t know if it was destined to spend its days gathering virtual dust in a drafts folder. I’m not 100% convinced that I won’t delete it sooner rather than later, and make good use of a blog’s enviable functionality in being able to erase the painful, but for now, it stands.
Last week, I was present for the final hours of someone who meant a lot to me and who’d been in my life for a long time. It wasn’t an unexpected death, and certainly the few days leading up to it felt like a strange kind of rehearsal, full of doctors that spoke in ever softer voices of making the patient as comfortable as possible, and screens showing heart rates and respiration in green and blue peaks and troughs that made me think of a horizon of grassy mountains towering over a gentle blue sea.
I won’t go into details, because such personal disclosures aren’t in my nature and even now it doesn’t sit well with me to fully talk about their illness – even now, with their days echoed in memories and photographs and journal entries, it’s still their life, their business. The journal entries reinforce that, actually. There are pages that speak of a heartache held in check until it can be expressed alone and thus with the one person that truly understands the loss.
I’d never seen the journal until this week, and each page shows a level of bravery that I could only hope to approach. But I think that the thing I’m seeing most bleeding from those cracks between the lines is how much comfort the person behind them took from having people dear to them in their life, how fortunate they honestly felt to have been loved.
I need to remember that right now, on so many levels. That might be the sweetest gift they could leave behind, and I hope that in the days and weeks ahead, I can keep it close.