Love lost, read and found
‘If I can be of any help in any way, please don’t hesitate to ask!’Isn’t it funny how sometimes in a given situation, we just do not know what else we can say? There are moments in life when you are offered help and comfort from just about everyone that you know and yet at the very same time, you just don’t know how to take it!
There comes a few moments in life, where all you can hear is the deafening of silence and its echoing blast left ringing in your ear and for as much as the gestures of the helping hands that are offered, you can’t find an outreached arm to cling on to.
The vacuum of deafening silence has an iron grip on the living as much as Death as its master has on all others. There is no one or offer of help that can pull you up and away from what it is that’s sucking you down.
Yet what else can anyone say? The wall of deafening silence by very nature keeps people talking but on its opposite sides, but the one who’s stuck behind the windowless bars can only look out whilst nodding in silence to the words coming from the other side. Yes, the wall of silence is so closely related to its mother, silence is spawned from the dying and resides in place of the living.
When you are tragically bereaved, more than your loved one will follow in dying! Somehow instinctively we all know this, both the very affected and the very sympathetic, we know that more than some big part of a life has died, but the dying of many things we took as norm is faced by person left living. As much as you offer the gesture of help, you forget that the ears that you think are reaching for help, are still deafened and cannot even hear you.
People need help not just its offer!
When my comforting visitors went home, their support and well wishes went with them even though they thought they left the gift of generosity behind. As I waved them off on their way back home, I shut my door on my house and wondered when it would once again feel like my home but instead it felt like bars slamming and I was left once again in my prison alone!
Death takes many things from you and it does it both fast and in agonising slow motion. When you are locked up by fate, there aren’t any words to set you free though I guess you still like to hear them. Words can feel like a plaster on a deep cut, they offer the gesture of comfort but you know they won’t heal you. You wouldn’t stick a plaster on a wound that could bleed out, so why would you say to the mortally wounded, ‘if you need anything, just call me’?
Sometimes those offering help can’t win either way but remember you still have nothing to lose. Those unable to reach out and take your hand feel like they are losing it all and are left only clinging tightly to pride in the hope that they won’t let death win it all and so we spiral around and around in the vacuum of its wall of deafening silence where on the inside we can scream as loud as we like, because we know no one else will be able to hear us. In our muffled out howls time will be served and in its passing it will pretend to set us free. The deafening silence turns instead to deathly silence and then you ache for the sounds you used to live for.
It can feel like your pride now needs rehabilitating and that is another internal battle you must now fight if you want to start living once again on the outside. I never wanted to seem like or even feel like a victim and so many times when I really needed, I couldn’t ask for help in even the simplest of forms as I felt that my scar would rip open and start to bleed out although I had wrapped it in plaster after plaster.
As time passed by, I guess most saw me cocooned in a kind of bubble of silence and perhaps think it was of my own choosing and not to risk prodding with words that might burst a bubble that’s still raw on the inside, so instead those who circled me often never engaged me on the only things that had engulfed me. At first that was okay as I hated talking about Kath as it made me feel like I was giving precious things away and so I hoarded each thought like a dragon sat on its gold and I snarled at anyone talking of Kath even if it was in the very distance. The trouble is that treasure becomes a worthless thing unless you remind others of its value and over time I was conflicted by what I preserved in my silence and what I needed to give away to preserve all that I treasured.
Sometimes I would find myself name dropping Katherine into random bits of conversation or bringing her up just to keep her significance alive and then I would hate myself for giving her up to mostly complete strangers like I had demeaned the relevance of her passing and the sacred place she had in my heart and I had let almost anyone see.
‘If there is anything you need, just ask!’
I needed to forget Kath to stop my soul burning and remember her to keep my heart from going cold. There was no one I guess who could help me do that and so it was easier left as ‘just call me’.
I couldn’t remember what it felt like to wave goodbye to a friend and then remember who had just visited or shut my door on my house and feel like I was home because everything that helped define what this was had fallen deathly silent.
Help is something we all can do with and at times in our lives we can’t ask when we need it the most despite so many offers.
In my grief I was often torn in ways that were different; What happened to Kath and what happened to our daughters and of course what happened to me. At times I have sought to take comfort from drawing parallels between our joint circumstance but I know our fates have been different. Where Kath maintained a dignified poise in the face of her demise, outwardly showing mostly sereneness and calm, I was stripped every such quality. I couldn’t stop thinking about her and how slain I felt by the thought that on this plane of existence she was ending, and thinking that all she was still living for was about to finish, I decided I would not let her escape from my mind.
That is what I I guess if I could have, I would have asked for when offered but I never knew how to, someone to help break the deafening silence of Katherine dying and a way to still connect with the living, so when I say goodbye to visiting friends it serves as a reminder, that where I am living and I shut the door on my house, I am home.
‘If there is anything you need just call me’.
People just don’t know what else to say, but those needing help really know it. People needing help don’t know how to ask, but those offering help don’t even know it!