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DRAWN TO A STORY

Loss and Liminality

1/28/2019

4 Comments

 
The loss of a loved one hits you like a cricket bat.

Square in the face.


And it hurts.

It hurts big time.

It's multilayered at the best of times, but your best coping strategies are well and truly stretched when you live in another country. The distance between your souls is far apart, but you hang on to the knowledge that you will see each other again.

...and that's before death hits.

You can cope with the distance, because you talk regularly on the phone, exchange emails and know that when money permits, you can travel to see each other.

There's always that future time when you know you can sit in the same room catching up in a way that phone calls never seem able to do. Reminiscing with each other - enjoying the sound of their laugh or the wry look they give you. Each facial expression reminds you of another time that you managed to share special time together.

You learn to live with seeing each every 2 years, or once a year if you're lucky. So you make it really good when you do.

And best of all, you always know that there will be next time.

Until there's not.


My father died 4 months ago and I still feel like I've just been hit with that cricket bat. It's not such a fresh wound. The bruises have gone. I now look like anyone else, but my eyes still water with the pain. Cricket bats are painful bastards.

Now, my comfort comes from a picture by my bed, a jumper and a poncho.
Some days, just knowing the poncho and jumper are there, is enough.
Picture
Other days, they need to be smelled and his photo touched - my fingers trying to remember how the lines on his face moved when he laughed or how his beard felt on my neck when I hugged him.

THIS is why I've been quiet on here.

Hibernating has been essential. No, actually,

It's been critical
I was lucky enough to be able to rush to South America where he lived to spend time with him before he died. A surreal time with loss and liminality using each other to balance.

I think they knew each other well.

'Loss' seemed more of a fragile character.

She knows that I was wary of her, but also that she would need to become my friend soon enough. We danced around each other, eyeing one another for 12 days.

We didn't speak much.

'Liminality' on the other hand was more of a friend to me in that time.

She was quite down to earth, but kept disappearing on me. I didn't know where she would go, but every time she did, Loss came forward trying to sneak her way into the room. 

Once she even picked up the cricket bat by the door, but put it down again when I looked at her.

I knew I was only putting off the inevitable.

And the inevitable came after I'd flown home.
Picture
Unfortunately, Loss decided she wanted to play cricket...another 4 times.

To experience 5 significant deaths in 4 months has felt more like a round with Mike Tyson, than a cricket match.

It's probably not a surprise to learn that I've decided to not play cricket for a while.

I'm happier at an away game drinking tea, watching from afar.....at least until my injuries heal.


If the captain asks me if I want to play again, I know what I will say.

"Yes, but as long as my dad can watch over me from the sidelines"

Cath
x

4 Comments
Jo Parfitt link
1/29/2019 07:09:35 am

Oh Cath, I feel your pain. That bloody cricket bat. It took me six months to dare put his photo in my line of sight so I could look Pa square into his blue eyes again without welling up. I’m two months ahead of you in the grief game. Let’s have a sob-in in Bangkok. I get it. I never liked cricket

Reply
Cath
1/29/2019 01:42:04 pm

It's tough isn't it?
Similar to your daring to put his photo in your line of sight, I needed to be very quiet and not talk about it much.
Yes to Bangkok.

We recently bought a garden shredder.
I wonder if it accepts cricket bats?

Reply
Kate Compston
2/2/2019 06:26:35 pm

Losing someone you really love is a bummer. Losing four people in a row whom you really love is a bummer times somewhat-more-than-four, because you end up like a punch-bag. 2006 was such a year for me - I also lost four significant people in a row, including my mum and my husband. Not least does it take a little time to sort out who you've grieving for on any one occasion .... You write so well about this. All I can say - coming from my own experience (which may not be yours) is that it helps to keep putting one foot doggedly in front of the other with the ordinary things of life (eating, washing clothes, gardening, for instance), to be kind to yourself and taking time out, to attempt something creative - like writing or drawing or sloshing paint across a canvas (not 'best work', just being in the process), and then, eventually, it comes to you that you haven't altogether lost the people you love, but found a new way of loving and relating to them. And also I find it helps to be a bit Buddhist about this: to accept the reality that things change all the time: we come, we go; we feel pain, we feel pleasure; we gain things, we lose things; there is birth, there is death. It kinda all helps to soothe the wounds. But they ARE wounds - and let no one tell you they're not. Shalom. xx

Reply
Cath
2/4/2019 04:44:26 pm

Hi Kate,
Thank you for taking the time to write and share your experiences. One is hard, but more is another ball game altogether.

You're right about one foot forward. I focused on work and knew the last 4 months would slow up at some point. They have and now I'm slowly coming out of hibernation. It's nice to have the time to go for a walk or sleep in late and I know I need these things as I'm still very tired.
Drawing and writing help and allows me to feed the state of the body and recharge. Equally, going to the gym helps. That's it though isn't it? Finding your ways that suit you.

The buddhist way is very like the shamanic way. I don't feel still as in stuck, but rather that's there's noise out there, but I'm slowly moving through a process at my own pace, and when I feel like rejoining the rush, I will.
But I'll check for cricket bats first.
x

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