Hi everyone!
It's been a fair few weeks since my last post and I've got a fair bit to report.
This last
week however I've been occupied with two things:
1. Being ill
(including any of the following symptoms possibly combined at any given time): a blocked nose, a
chesty cough, a
headache
(including that really annoying type right behind your eye), vomiting, earache, sneezing, a
sore throat, sneezing so
hard that my body has hurt, unstoppable snot flurries, rapid fire toileting issues,
“corked up” toileting issues, changing from hot – cold (and back again) in
rapid time and those really weird dreams that you get when you are ill
(including a really trippy one about me being a red train in Thomas the Tank
Engine).
2. The funeral of a friend. And with that in mind, Ive actually
changed what I was going to speak about in this post (although I'm sure it will
return at a later date).
How do you cope
with loss?
From the very outset here, I have to make something very
clear (no rhyme intended) and that is that (similar to the rest of 10
Resolutions) I do not have all of this figured out. (As shown in Chapter 9). This
isn’t going to be a user guide to dealing with the loss of a loved one, because
I don’t think that anyone could ever write and do that justice. It's not a one
size fits all situation. Everyone grieves in different ways, so the only thing
that I can possibly do is to open up and to tell you how I cope – and the
honest truth (because if I wasn’t this would be pointless) is probably not very
well.
I’m nearly 31, and I’m not sure about on average how many
funerals someone my age should have attended. I’m honoured to be well above the
average for weddings - but I’m not sure about funerals. But I think that how I
cope now can be traced back to the funeral of a dear friend from college (I
guess my first funeral as an adult) – Jim.
13 (ish) Years ago.......
13 (ish) Years ago.......
I hadn’t known Jim for that long, but in a class of 15 or so
musicians you quickly get to know those around you. And being a couple of years
older than me, Jim was someone that I looked up to and loved spending time
with. I’d stay at his house once a week so that we could go to £1 a pint night
at Wetherspoons in Ruslip (and on reflection the fact that I used to regularly
go to another £1 a pint night in Amersham probably explains a fair amount now).
But you get the picture. Jim and I (and the rest of the college class) were
pretty close knit and that in itself was probably partly due to a serious car
accident a number of the class had been involved in the year before.
Early
(ish) in the 2nd year a few of us (Jim included) had been working on
an assignment together. On deadline day, Jim was coming in with the final part
of the assignment, but as he hadn’t arrived by the start of our session I
started to get angry (as he had a well known habit of oversleeping). 30
minutes of the session passed and I was getting angrier and angrier. 1 hour
passed (and you can imagine how I was feeling by then). And then around ten past 10, our
tutor came in and had us all sit down. Tragically, Jim had been walking along
the street the night before and his brain had just given up. He had died
there and then. There had been no warning. No warning signs that it could have happened
to him or that he was even ill in the first place. The chances of it ever
happening to anyone his age were slim (something that was of no comfort to any
of us) but Jim was gone.
The next few days (/two weeks) are a bit of a blur. I was a
mess and (alongside the rest of my class) was on a 2 week bender to try and
numb the pain of loss and to try and stop the flow of tears. The only way for
someone to prepare you for something like that is just to be be blunt and say
that it will hurt - but everything had happened so quickly that no one had the
chance to explain, so I continued to fight through the hurting by drinking to
forget.
The day of the funeral arrived, and through some mysterious level
of good fortune I wasn’t hungover. I put on my suit, filled my hip flask and
went to meet everyone else. I’m fairly certain that the hour we all spent
together before the funeral that day was the quietest hour I’ve ever
experienced (and I dread to think how many cigarettes I got through). But how
do you prepare to say goodbye to a friend? There isn’t a good way. No one should
have to go through something like that so much that it becomes easy or second
nature.
And then with smoky breath, a (frustratingly) now-empty hip
flask and vodka tasting burps the funeral began.
Like most of the others, I stood at the back of the building,
numb, as the service went along. I was holding back the tears desperate to be
one of the strong ones who wouldn’t break. For the first time since his death I
saw Jim’s parents and my mind starting drifting to how hard it must have been
to say goodbye to a 21 year old son – and how real strength and real courage
was being displayed by the pair of them as they held each other firmly in the
midst of such a painful moment. I looked around and saw the tens and tens of people
that had shown up to say goodbye to Jim and to show support to his family. And then
my head turned to the person next door to me who was sobbing - and with tears
in my eyes I put my arm around her as I started to remember all of the people
who had held me (/held me up quite literally in some cases) and helped me
through the previous weeks. I might not have been aware of what they were doing
at the time and I probably hadn’t said thankyou (or if I did it was probably
expressed with a slur or dribble) - but I had been supported by those around me.
And that revelation (that must seem so simple), was something I took away from
the day. There’s a beautiful Bible verse that reflects this in 1 John and it
says ‘let’s not merely say that we love each other; let us show the truth by your actions’ and over those weeks that love was something I’d experienced
beyond belief.
At the pub later we shared stories of Jim and our favourite
memories of him. We played his favourite songs on the jukebox and we raised a
glass (as I can’t remember getting home that night either there is a fair
possibility that it was more than one) in his honour. He would have wanted a
party not something depressing (and just fyi – just so it’s out there – when
its my time I do as well) and that evening he had a great send off. The events
of his death were heartbreaking and tragic and from time to time I still miss
him - especially when I use a song we wrote together in my set (when appropriate!). I wish that I’d
have spent more time with him and of course I’m sad that he’s gone. But at the same
time I’m thankful for the time I did get to spend with him - for simply knowing
him made me a better man.
I can’t and won’t pretend that I knew Sue Woolway (Auntie
Sue) as well as I knew Jim.
I’m sure that Sue had her flaws, as did Jim, as do you or I
but I hope that when I go I am remembered for the best parts of me and that
people say I was a good man. And I hope that you find the best way to remember
those that you’ve lost.
RIP Sue - Gone but not forgotten xx
So – in answer to the question - how do I cope with loss?
Well, it’s more of a reminder list but:
1. Having strength doesn’t mean not showing emotion. Sometimes
real strength is the opposite.
2. Grieve (however you do it), but make sure that you have
someone to talk to.
3. Try and support and stand alongside those who might need
you (If you can).
4. Remember the best parts of the person that is gone.
5. Be thankful for the time that you did have with them.
6. Hip flask.
I’ll be back in a couple of weeks after spending a week in
Tenerife and after celebrating turning older. But first I'm off to the doc's.
I’ll let Sue play us out.
God Bless
