In These Heels

I hate death. Hate it more than anything else in the world. I hate how it makes you feel as soon as you hear, shocked, worried, reflective. I hate the funeral, seeing people weeping so hard, not having words to say to comfort friends and family you have known all your life. I hate that sinking feeling afterwards, when you think you see them, or you want to tell them something, but then you remember you can’t.

Since 1st Nov 2008, I have had 7 deaths to think about. The first, early hours of All Saints Day, my friend was murdered. 2 weeks later, his best friend committed suicide, unable to cope with the grief.

June 2009, my mother in law was diagnosed with cancer, and died 6 weeks later. A few months later a dear friend and work colleague had an accident at home, and died. Then in March this year hubby’s gran passed away, never having recovered from her daughters death 9 months previous.

Another friend recently drowned in an accident, his body not found for 3 long weeks. And today an old family friend passed away.

Also in that time, that our 16 year old family dog had to be put down, and my mums new dog, whom I had adopted with her from Dogs Trust, was killed by a car.

GIVE A GIRL A BREAK

I have never been able to cope with death. My first memorable death was a dog. My singing teacher’s Springer, called Emma. I think I was 8 or 9, and I loved that big old dog, I used to play with her while my older sister had her lessons before mine. But one day she wasn’t there. I cried for 2 days, uncontrollably. I remember sitting in front of my dresser, sobbing and simply staring at my face, in shock of the sheer emotions visible on my own face. It scared me, and I didn’t like it.

A year later, my grandad died, of the same cancer that is currently gnawing away at my mum. It was a long process, and not unexpected death. I thought I was ok, I thought at 10 I could cope with it. I went to the church and as soon as it started “we are all here today to say goodbye to Dennis” and the floodgates opened. I was shaking so much, I got up and ran out of the church, needed air.

I went and sat by a house, calming myself down, then a bird flew into the window, dropped to the ground and died. Well, didn’t that just start me off all over again. One of the men with the hearse came over to see me, my family had all stayed inside, and I was alone. And that is the haunting feeling I get every time there is a death. Emptiness. Alone. I could be surrounded by people, but still feeling more alone than ever.

But why am I not used to it yet.

I think to be honest I am. But today, at the news of Timmy’s death, I felt the emptiness coming and I realised that I am going to have to deal with one of the biggest deaths I will ever know soon. My mum.

My mum has cancer. It started as oesophageal cancer 2 years ago, which was operated on, and she had her oesophagus removed. a year later, cancer has spread to her stomach, inside and out, and her lungs, and to be honest, I don’t even know where else. She cant eat, she now weighs little over 5 stone, and looks, quite simply, like death. She’s on morphine patches, and although never an easy to deal with person, she’s unbelievable now.

We aren’t close, never have been, but yet, despite my best efforts, this is upsetting me now, as it comes to the obvious end of her life. The doctors cannot do anything more for her, and it really is a waiting game, every phone call could be That One. I will cope when she is gone, as she’s not influential on my life, if that makes sense, not in the way my Mother In Law was. I’m already feeling the loss, and she’s not even gone yet. I hate to say it but the thought of A Death, any death, is scaring me, more than the loss of my mum. This will be funerals, family to deal with, cards, constant greeting people I don’t recognise, all whilst dealing with my own grief, and that of my son, hubby, and sisters.

Also, just to put a cherry on my heavily iced cake, my father in law’s pacemaker has run out of steam. Apparently they should be replaced every 8 years. I have no idea why he still has his over 10 years later. He should be in for surgery in 8-10 weeks, until then….. who knows. I rely on him for child minding in the summer hols, and feel so bad about the physical strain this has on him, but I have no other options. Cue stressed hubby, and rightfully so.

I NEED a break from all this. I need no deaths, illnesses, hospitals. I need no money or job worries. I need love, and support, and understanding. I need to be able to scream and not have anyone tell me to stop. And on top of it all, more than any of it all, I need a hug.

Rest In Peace Kenny, Thomas, Myra, Jackie, Molly, Graeme, Timmy.

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