GETTING ON

We live and we die. That's the natural order of things.

It is, of course bad news when dying inevitably happens.We leave or are left behind by friends, loved ones and acquaintances who 'take' a bit of ourselves away. We all experience it although some experience it at a closer and deeper level than others.

Robert, in his latest post THOSE OF US WHO ARE LEFT recounts from both personal experience and the intimacies shared from conversing with others who have cared for and lost loved ones. This is well crafted and has a visceral and raw honesty element that goes beyond any trite observations and maudlin sentimentality. He writes about: feelings of guilt that we have at 'not doing more' (even when going beyond what would normally be required); of how onerous and tiring caregiving can be; of feelings of helplessness and uncertainty; but mostly of regret, emptiness and loneliness.

• We are the survivors. We went through the trauma of watching a loved one die. Some of us have done this twice. Maybe a son died then a husband. Maybe a wife then a daughter. 
• Caregiving became our world. Often we had no idea what to do or what the future held. We learnt as we went. Sometimes learning to do things others would think unimaginable.
• Eventually the end came. Mostly it was unexpected. Sooner than we expected. Sometimes it was inevitable, obvious.
• Like veterans we only speak of it among ourselves. We have a special bond , those that are left. We understand the flashbacks. The sudden spasm of tears. 
• The irony is that we would all do it again. Would it be easier a second time? I don't think so. But we would.

Powerful stuff that. That's bravery.

Me? I'd want to run away, to hide, to wait until it was all over but .... I know I wouldn't. We all have to 'get on' and do what's right and hopefully for the best.

Lynn was up most of the night having had an early morning call from a good friend, who lives in Scotland whose mother died last night. He had been caregiver for the last several years after she had a stroke. This followed on from losing his wife in 2015 (we attended the funeral in Glasgow). He put his career on hold while nursing his wife (they returned to Scotland from New Zealand in 2015 essentially for her to die amongst family) and later his mother and now he's at an age where it will be difficult and near impossible to pick up where he left off. Having sold up in Auckland 10 years ago and living on proceeds from the sale and other savings he won't be able to afford to return. He's one of those who are left. Lynn, through the night texted and emailed friends and contacts, arranged flowers and condolences and remotely held his hand.

Here's a post I wrote many years ago.

'GETTING ON'