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JAYNE WITH A WHY |
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Wednesday, February 22, 2017DEATH - IN CAPITAL LETTERS
During the past few years, I've had the unenvying task of either watching loved ones die, or been at the end of a phone or keyboard in offering emotional support to friends, who are going through the agonising process of having someone they dearly love die.
It's not nice.
It's emotionally draining.
It leaves you feeling helpless, because whether you're nearby or far away, there's nothing you can do.
Whilst living in the Sandpit (Abu Dhabi), my motherbylaw - fondly known by all & sundry as 'Grandma' - became ill. Despite the best treatment available, she couldn't win in the fight with cancer. She died, with us, her family by her side. It wasn't an experience I would wish on anyone. It traumatised my son & left Hubs feeling lost & empty. He called himself an orphan - he no longer had parents. I was very close to Grandma & I'm not shy in admitting that it took me a long time to come to terms with her death.
We came home to SA almost 4yrs ago. Renovated the house. Bought the TriGlide. Invested in 2 'rescue' dogs. Settled down to a sort of semi-retired life.
Out of the blue, I learn via Facebook that my brother is terminally ill. (So good of the family to let me know hey? Nah, post a barely literate diatribe on Facebook & tell the whole bloody world that your dad is dying! And yes, I'm still fucking angry!) It took many weeks of investigating, holding my temper & sending messages through gritted teeth before I finally got to speak to my brother one-on-one. During the months that followed, he was very sick - then back to normal - then desperately sick. He had experimental treatment (not readily available) which made him feel great, but within weeks of stopping it, his body began shutting down. He too lost a brave fight with cancer.
My dad had been in & out of hospital since returning to the UK some 7yrs ago. When my brother died, Pup (my dad) said he didn't want to live any more. He didn't have cancer, but he had a death wish. That wish was fulfilled just 7 short weeks later, when he died, peacefully, with Dubs (Mum) by his side. He went to be with his boy.
(I still harbour some resentment about this, because it felt like I was totally ignored from the family 'equation'.......like "OK Pup, I know your first born child has died, but you do have another one!" I don't think I was even given a second thought. My neurotic self is asking "Is this wrong of me to feel this way?")
And so life carried on. A friend from our days in The Last Khaki Outpost - Cathy - was living in Port Elizabeth, just 300km away & had the chance to come through to visit for a few days. She had been battling cancer from the day we first met her, some 7yrs ago. She had a great oncologist in PE & the tumours in her liver seemed to come, but not quite go. We had a beautiful couple of days together - just catching up on old times & laughing about great rides we'd taken together. It was the last time I saw Cathy alive. Last year, she just couldn't fight anymore. Hubs & myself went through to her funeral. It was heartbreaking for her 2 children & grandchildren.......their beloved Ouma was with them no more. As we left, a complete stranger asked if we were the people from East London. I confirmed that we were & she said "You know, Cathy spoke of you often. She loved you & your time together." I felt kak, that I hadn't spent more time with her.
I've made several friends through blogging & they're scattered throughout the world. Kaya from The Sandpit is now happily resettled with her family in Canada. Michelle & Jen flit between the UAE, Germany & New Zealand. They're coming over to visit in a couple of months time & we're both really looking forward to their time with us. Keefie has left the UAE & after a couple of years in Spain, has now returned to his roots in England. We all stay in touch - albeit sporadic - but the contact is still there. Just recently, a comment was left on one of my posts from a friend whom I have never met in person, but have spent many an hour chatting with from our blogging days of yore. Her name is Kathy & she has mere weeks left to live. She recently posted photos on Facebook, of her daughters wedding. It was a simple affair, but breathtakingly beautiful & in my opinion, Kathy looked as every bit as stunning as her daughter, the bride. And today, she is dying & I feel helpless. This amazing woman has battled an abusive husband & the loss of custody of her kids. She has endured emotional trauma that would reduce many women to snivelling wrecks. But she fought & it took a few years, but she managed to start a new life. She found love again, got a job, got to see her kids again & saw her beautiful daughter get married. But today, as I write, she is losing the fight with cancer & it's nothing short of devastating.
I'm angry, so very angry. Kathy is a strong Christian. She & her family have immense faith in God, yet here I sit, livid that her God is letting her suffer the way she is. She so deserved to have the chance to live a happy life for years to come.....to see her first grandbabies......to explore more of the great outdoors with her 'Bear'. Why - someone please tell me why - is she being robbed of her life? The old adage of 'God only takes the best' just doesn't wash with me. Perhaps, if I wasn't an infidel, I would understand........if I had 'faith' I might 'get it'. But there's just something in my psyche that doesn't compute with a 'higher being' deciding who gets to live & choosing which way they die. I understand we all have to shuffle off this mortal coil at some stage, but for fucks sake, why make it an agonisingly painful process & moreso, why does it have to happen when such a strong believer has a brief glimpse of a future that includes love & happiness?
My heart is aching.
I am sad.
In Terry Pratchetts picure above, it says 'Don't think of it as dying. Just think of it as leaving easly to avoid the rush.' So many truly wonderful people have been caught up leaving early.
It simply is not fair.
 
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