silence

the silence of death

to see a person die

we know they are gone

and yet ...

Someone once told me that people die everywhere all the time and I translated it for myself into an accusation - why am I making such a big fuss around it! At the time, I was mourning my father. The person who was angry at me, too, had lost their father. And today I know that they had never gotten over it. Not really. To sayWell, that is how it is is not acceptance. It is resignation at best, denial at worst. It might also be a tool to reserve the grief for a more opportune moment, basically saying, I want to grieve, but not right now or here. Because there are people around who should not see me weak, on my knees, not in control, vulnerable.

the silence of death

To put grief off might also be happening because there is something that needs to get done. Our jobs can be an equal blessing and curse as they distract us and demand our attention. They remind us of life as it once was. that life, too, is lost in death's silencing, all the little things that come with a long-term relationship. Jokes, often unspoken, memories, intimacy, knowing that the other one is thinking about the same people and things, about us, has our back no matter what, all the plans and dreams. Hopes. the ability to feel comforted by a simple touch of my hand. sharing favourite food, Netflix, walks, pictures, reminiscing.

to see a person die

that moment when the soul leaves the body. that moment when it is over. that moment when the bodily warmth is still there but the eyes are empty. that moment when the face looks asleep, at peace, and calm. that moment when the body - ever so slightly - begins to fade. when the last journey commences to wherever we hope and pray it will take them - and ultimately us. that moment when silence falls and is unsuccessfully ruptured by the screams of those who stay behind. of those who remain alive. alive. even if they don't know how.

to see a person die

it happens every day and all around the world. Like births, it is a daily occurrence. people get old, sick, murdered, we know and yet, we are safely removed from this reality by medicine and healthcare, by technology, by our lifestyle in general that suggests that everything can be bought. by most recent successes in gene therapy. by miracles and wonders that are not magic but the result of decades and centuries of medical science's mistakes and experiences. and sometimes by luck.

we know they are gone

we know they are gone before we know. we feel it. we sense it. some innermost instict knows. They might know it, too, but they cannot speak about it anymore. we know it and our whole being revolts, every fibre convulses against this new reality, that sets in like a blow to the temple, our fingers clench to theirs in a fruitless attempt to pull them back.

we know they are gone

I tenderly hold your your curly hair for the last time, shimmering softly, radiating one last instant of comfort and love and safety and everything you were to me and I say my first goodbye. I wish you farewell. and I stay behind to comfort our children.