Originally Published to Blogger: 10 Dec 2015
Tonight we watched a film called Before You Go. Lovely film actually.
Afterwards, my partner, who’s much more sensitive than I am, was upset, probably because the movie is about how three daughters deal with the death of their mother. This would strike home for me, as my siblings and I have already been through this. But for my partner, he’s not had to deal with death so close up before. And I pray he doesn’t have to for a good long while.
So death… I’ve seen too much of it, been involved with it up to my eye teeth, and frankly, getting pretty tired of having to deal with it in my lifetime. I’m finding that I’m fairly resentful of my loved ones being taken from me. For a long time, it actually kept me from making any close ties, figuring they’re going to be ripped away from me without much notice so why should I face the hurting all over again. After the passing of my mother, I think that I just stopped feeling.
Watching this movie reminded me of all the times I had to deal with the passing of a loved one. Often I’d be there as a means of support, bringing things into perspective. I’m incapable of platitudes so I try to be logical without sounding detached. Not the easiest thing to do. I’ll assist in the arrangements to be made, because I can detach and get on with the tasks. And then the days of the end, I am there to support, manage and ensure that everyone has their time to grieve. It’s the grieving that matters. Remembering the life of the person lost.
We grieve because of the loss to our lives. Sometimes we even rejoice that the person is free of their pain and suffering if they’ve been ill for an extended period of time. People seem to feel ashamed of that, when in fact they want to heave a sigh of relief, and cry tears that the person is finally suffering-free. Or that they’ve been released from their obligation of care and watching the misery pass.
I know that’s been true for me on several occasions, especially when it came to my mother.
But it’s painful to realize that I’m an orphan now.