Some more thoughts about bereavement. I'm not always sure sharing this stuff publicly is the right thing to do but writing it down definitely helps me and this seems a better place to put it than say Twitter or Facebook. If you just want the music, feel free to skip to the end. I really wouldn't blame you- this isn't necessarily what people come here for and I get that.
It's now nearly three months since Isaac died. That feels like quite a long time without him- a quarter of a year- but in lots of ways it feels like it's passed very quickly and it's very recent. There are times now when I can go a period of time without feeling completely bereft or physically ill from it, where for the duration of a TV programme say or the time it takes to read an article or the chapter of a book it isn't at the front of my mind. When it comes back though, the grief, it still has the capacity to crush me. A memory or photograph can do it. At first looking at photos of Isaac helped, it made me feel closer to him. Not it's pretty painful to see them. One of the side effects of smartphones and social media is the memories function/ algorithm which pushes 'a year ago today' into your timeline unexpectedly. Sometimes it makes me smile and sometimes it reminds me he's gone. I had a few fairly flat days at the end of the week before last, not good or bad just flat. On Monday night I saw a photo of Isaac and it sideswiped me, leaving me thinking (I almost said it out loud to myself), 'how are we ever going to get over this?'. And I think the answer is we won't ever get over this, it's just that over time, it becomes easier to live with.
When a person with learning disabilities dies there has to be a review to check that everything happened correctly and that there were no concerns about their care and what happened. This would involve input from the hospital, the GP and the deceased's family. We were asked if we wanted to contribute and said yes. The meeting took place on Zoom and was pretty tough going for us at times (and we had no concerns about Isaac's care or how he and we were treated in hospital). The report was emailed to us recently and seeing it all in print was hard.
On Saturday we had our first big family get together since he died, an afternoon pub meal for my family for my Mum's 73rd birthday with twenty three of us present, ages ranging from six months to 83. It's the sort of event Isaac would have loved, all those people to speak to. It's the first time we've gone to one without him. I can never be sure how I'm going to be. Tears are never far away. I've cried in front of various people recently who I never would have before and usually I just say something like, 'don't worry, this happens all the time at the moment, just keep talking to me'. The birthday party was fine by the way. I felt a little out of it once or twice but on the whole it was a good get together and another hurdle cleared. But when we got home and sat down a wave of sadness broke onto me. When this happens I just go with it, accept it's all part of the process, but it's pretty heavy and it feels very like it did back in December. I guess three months isn't really very long at all.
We've also had family to stay and I've been out with two different sets of friends, all of which has been good. It's good to see people and it's good to do things. It helps. That's where I'm up to I think.
This came out last year and I thought I'd give it a bump to put it back out into blogworld. Private Agenda are a London/ Berlin duo whose six track EP Submersion last year was inspired by water, the sea, coasts and islands. Seahawks are a Balearic duo who have made some wonderful albums over the last decade. Their take on Malanai Ascending is a languid, floating beauty, shimmering synths and bubbling rhythms rippling ever onwards for six minutes. It could be twice as long and I wouldn't complain. Malanai I've just discovered is a trade wind and in Hawaiian translates as 'the gentle blowing of the northeast wind'.
Malanai Ascending (Seahawks Remix)
My journey to work yesterday was disrupted by a lorry that had overturned on Barton Bridge, a flooded road with a car abandoned in it and a fallen tree that closed part of the A666, the effects of Storm Franklin blowing in on northwest England coming only a day after Eunice had battered the south. None of your gentle blowing of the northeast winds round here.
14 comments:
Writing is great release Adam. You are not alone. We're all with you. Thanks for sharing.
If its helping you then it is definitely the right thing to do. Thinking of you all.
"...the answer is we won't ever get over this, it's just that over time, it becomes easier to live with." That sounds about right. And it's good that you're getting on with the business of living, Adam.
This might be appropriate or not, you decide. In the USA here there's an NPR radio show & podcast called "Wait Wait, Don't Tell Me". It's a news/comedy quiz show like you'd find on Radio 4.
One of the panelists (PJ O'Rourke) passed away recently and there was a tribute to him on the latest episode which the host said:
"...I will quote the man himself in a note about grief he wrote to me after my mother died last year - quote, "you don't exactly get over it, an offensive phrase under any circumstances, but the grief, in time, does turn into a nostalgic ache that is almost comforting," unquote. We are comforted already by the fact that we were able to get to know him."
More here (near the end)
https://www.npr.org/transcripts/1081834928
Please don't worry about writing about this. I think it is necessary for your to write down what you think and feel and share it with us. Anything that helps you get over your big loss is right. And as said - we are here and with you Adam.
I think most people initially came for the music Adam, and your lovely thoughts about it. Now, the music us a wonderful release and it's still good to know what you're listening to, but I think I speak for most on here, but we keep coming back because we care, and we want to know how you're doing. And that's because we know it's impossibly hard, so anything that we can do, we'll do, but if writing it down helps, we'll always be here to read it and offer some support.
The fact that you can even gather your thoughts to write so eloquently while going through such a bereavement is remarkable. As others have already said, we're all here for you Adam.
Write what you like, when you like. We're here to read it and then to listen to your recommendations. I hope knowing you have regular readers/visitors who care and will keep on returning gives you even a very small crumb of comfort, even if fleetingly.
I stand with the other readers/commenters. We're here for you.
As ever, a moving and emotional piece, Adam, with a perfectly pitched song selection/soundtrack. I'm echoing what everyone else has already said, but it's your blog and you write about and share what you want or need. If in some small way, the act of writing, sharing and receiving comments helps with your process of healing and remembering Isaac with joy and love, then that's a good thing.
The reason why I visit Bagging Area hasn't changed: inspiring and emotive writing, complemented by fascinating visuals and on-point musical selections, all combining to provide a challenging, rewarding and enriching experience. You've always been true to yourself in your writing and, as everyone has said already, irrespective of whether we've met in person or are relative strangers, there's a lot of people out in the wider world who care. Hopefully, our words, thoughts and best wishes will continue to be there when you need it.
Go with your instincts Adam, I wish I'd written my feelings when I lost Mim and a little while later my best friend. I've been floored a couple of times by phone showing the past, although it can bring on a flood of joyful memories. Reading your thoughts and feeling on your loss have helped with my own sense of loss. I've been reading your blog since pretty much the start, I'm not going anywhere and you've got lots of support here.
Thanks everyone, you're all ace. Your comments are helpful and mean a lot.
Bit late to this Adam and I echo everything, but I'll add, Adam I really want to buy you a drink.
Swc.
Sorry to be late here too but just to confirm the same thoughts and responses as have been already said above. It means a lot to us that it means a lot to you too.
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