“A goodbye is never painful unless you’re never going to say hello again”
March the 14th, I kissed my friend, thanked her, said goodbye and walked out of intensive care for the last time. Her death has been described as tragic, a terrible accident, an irreplaceable loss and my least favourite, ‘just one of those things’.
I do know,
Writing this post doesn’t change anything. The outcome remains the same.
I do know,
Her story has been told, and it certainly can’t be re-written.
Hey you,
I’ve been away from here for a while.
I’ve attempted this update many times over the past couple of weeks, I write a few scribbles, judge them, then put them aside. Today, I realise I’ve just been putting it off. Perhaps because to share it here with you means I have to accept the story as the truth.
I don’t actually know what to write to be honest. A tribute? Tell you about her life? What?! Also, I don’t want to get attached to the pictures and thoughts in daylight that go though my head at night.
I would love it, if today were the day that the grief had turned into wisdom, a fuller understanding and acceptance of what happened. But I would be lying to you.
This is a challenging experience, no doubt. My response to her passing has been a mix of my conditioned reaction to death and dying, and my belief that we are not our body (which does brings more peace).
Today, I am grateful that I can catch my breath.
See, I could have skipped this event and chosen to not write about it, you wouldn’t be any the wiser, but that would be a mammoth cop-out on my part.
Living with Moxie is about embracing all life: death and dying is part of the human experience, to leave them out rejects them.
Living with Moxie is about confidence, courage, bravery, fearlessness…in the face of adversity.
When you lose something you love, when unwelcome and unexpected grief comes slamming into your life, when your days are spent simply avoiding the opening to slipping in the downward spiral, when events out with your control are being acted out around you and you have no choice but to take part, it requires (now more than any other) digging really deep to find your inner courage, confidence and resilience to feel fully what you feel (whatever form that takes) so that you can move from grief into mourning, and then into healing.
I am practicing that last paragraph.
Loss is adversity, no doubt.
Unwelcome and uncontrollable change is adversity.
Circumstance out with your control is adversity.
Grief (and mourning) is adversity.
Adversity can be cold, ruthless and cruel, bringing with it a period of total chaos, uncertainty, fear and perhaps anger. Or it can teach you and I about life, living and love.
And yes, for some adversity that appears the road back can be a heck of a long one, with no signposts, instructions or a map to get you home, and it can demand so much from you, even qualities you didn’t know you had before it appeared.
Love waits on welcome
As you can imagine, because I am sure we share the common experience of losing love, even though the passing of my friend is at present connected with pain, anger, fear and utter disbelief – not just from me, but all those who knew her – there is no doubt that love has been ever present (as it is always, if you allow it) these past few weeks.
Truth: it’s love that has been the blanket to all of this, shrouding us, tucking us in, keeping us – friends, family, strangers – close and safe, allowing us to share stories, even laugh at times.
And this is where this story gives me such hope, faith and clarity for us all.
Even though we are all so different, complain and moan about the craziest, insane, and stupidest things at times. Even when we let our egos take over, or when we pay attention to parts of life that really don’t matter. When it comes down to it, we can put all that aside, all that nonsense that keeps us separate from one another and come together as fellow humans beings, sharing this human experience in all it’s form.
The majority of us do know that fear keeps us apart and love brings us together. That love is the first, last and always – gosh, that chokes me up. That we can in the hardest times actually get what’s important, that we can appreciate what we do have, that we genuinely have nothing to fear, and that we need not worry needlessly.
I’ll hold on to that.
I wish you had known her.
She was pretty darned special.
She was, with no doubt in my mind, the most compassionate, non-judgemental, loving and giving person I have had the pleasure to know and have in my life for over 20 years.
I won’t go into the details of her story, let’s just say she was one of the brave ones. Against the opinions of others, she didn’t sit down when her values and ethics required her to stand up, she did make a difference in thousands of lives – animal and human.
I am missing her. I will miss her.
You know, she was probably much like your closest friend.
Maybe give them a call today huh?
It will take you two mins. Or someone else that matters. Don’t hang up without saying Goodbye.
Goodbye, friend.
