Ashes to Ashes

Last week, my very dear friends returned home from a two and half week trip to Onterrible.  They made the journey to be with loved ones as a family member lay in palliative care and eventually passed away.  I knew the trip had been difficult, but as is sometimes the case with long battles with illness, by the end there is a feeling of relief and peace felt by those left to grieve.   It sounded as though my friends were holding up well under the sad circumstances.  Happy to be home, they invited me up Friday for one of our traditional visits; wine, food, conversation, wine, fur-kids, music, fire, wine.  This is a regular occurrence at ‘The Lane’. 

The Lane is my second home.  The residents of GGM are always welcome (save the newts, they don’t travel so well).  It’s a place of perpetual activity with people constantly coming and going.  Something is always on deck; home renos, lists (my favourite!), brewing of beer, dinner parties, trampolines, video games, pool parties - you name it.  It’s a veritable bee hive of activity 24/7.  Opinions are offered freely, smart ass jokes at the ready and an ear to listen to whatever dilemma, issue or pressing problem someone brings to the door.  Advice, help and a cold beer are consistently offered to anyone who crosses the threshold at The Lane.

With almost three weeks apart, I knew we all had a lot of catching up to do and I was excited to sit in front of the fire, comfies on, a hefty glass of wine in hand and hearty conversation to dig into.  Selfishly, I thought secretly to myself: “I’ll have some ‘blog-worthy’ material to draw on for sure”.  Trust me, no topic of conversation is ever off limits.   

I wasn’t prepared for the evening’s topic: Death.  Or more specifically, dying. Recent events had a profound affect on my friend, more than I had anticipated.  Although the loss was certainly felt, it was the final stages of death haunting my friend.  With a standing DNR, it was a difficult vigil to watch as someone’s body physically loses life’s fight, their last moments. Witnessing the end resonated with my friend and an honest and frank discussion about their inevitable final moments was required.  It’s crucial that family knows and respects these last wishes and since I was practically family, it was important for me to know theirs, so I listened.  As carefully and intently as I could.  

That was Friday night, followed by a busy and interesting weekend with a variety of events, conversations, observations and musings.  Anytime I thought about my next blog, my mind rewound back to Friday night’s conversation, relentlessly.  ‘But I don’t want to write about dying’, I kept telling my brain, ‘No.  Too raw. Too personal. Too damn depressing.  Tube socks. I can write a witty entry on my new tube socks, they’re so cool, good potential there.  Or, OR...I can write about Phase II of January...OR hey!  What about the fur-kids?  I’ve got reams of material there; cute, funny, upbeat? The words didn’t come. Even scrubbing and cleaning didn’t conjure them. Rewind...Dying. Write It.’ 

A friend, whose opinion I highly respect, imparted four valuable words recently:  “Don’t Cheat The Blog.” - Shit.

I realized I wasn’t resisting writing about dying, I was uncomfortable thinking about dying.  I’ve had to face that dark thought several times in the last 7 years and in short, I don’t like it.  It’s a dark, lonely, scary place that offers no hope, no control and no answers.  I only allow myself a few minutes to face those fears every so often; then, I bundle them up in a tight little ball and shove them in the mental space I relegate for emotions that I believe serve no useful purpose; jealousy, spite and self-pity.  

Now, that might sound as though I have a huge avoidance issue, but in truth, I believe I have a healthy perspective on death and dying.  I believe there’s more value in reflecting on our mortality rather than dwelling on our death.  For me, my philosophy is simple:  We’re all mortal, we are all eventually going to die. Yes it’s true and yes, it sucks.  I have another dear friend who believes this too; however, her words are more profound than mine. However, being forced to face my own mortality gave me the kick in the ass I needed to seek a happier, healthier, more fulfilling, meaningful, honest life.  It continuously helps me keep perspective on the truly important things in life, to focus on my journey, not necessarily the destination.  The little moments matter and time is only moving in one direction.  Cherish this. Enjoy it.  Prolong these moments for as long as you can.

So there brain, the words have been written and an unsuspecting layer of my psyche has been exposed.  It’s now safe to say this leg of my journey has taken on a momentum of its own. Here we go: Phase II; the Temple.  I will just have to try to keep up and find the courage to write what wants to be written.  I do hope I’m compelled to write about tube socks soon; because they really are so damn cool.