Words For It

 

“One woe doth tred upon another's heels, so fast they follow."

 

 

Sometimes we simply do not have words for it.

 

For me the cumulative it that has left me speechless was the death of my dear friend John Stephure. It seemed and still seems impossible. It still seems unbelievable. It has seemed at times unbearable. It seems, although untrue, that I will be sad forever. And I cannot even imagine what my dear friend Meredith, who was married to John for 38 years, is enduring. And their children. And his siblings.  And all of his other friends who knew and loved him even longer than the almost ten years we did.

 

I have asked myself why this man’s death has left such a hole in my heart and in the hearts of his family, so many other friends, colleagues and acquaintances. I guess it is because of his own good heart. John’s heart was open, honest, benevolent, and full of fun and purpose and it was a “no strings attached” kind of heart. He sometimes (although rarely) wore his heart on his sleeve but it was always a living, breathing, beating heart that never resisted the “generous impulse,” never had a hidden agenda, and never missed the chance for laughter.

 

Rachel Remen, physician and author of Kitchen Table Wisdom, wrote “You can get a lot accomplished if you don’t care who gets the credit.”  John was able to make all kinds of things happen, large and small because he only cared that it got done. He didn’t want the credit.

 

It has been shocking to me that I find it all so unbelievable. The gap between my intellect and my heart is enormous. No matter how many times I have written and spoken about the “moment” and how anything can happen, and how precious life is, I cannot “get it” yet that John went for a Dr’s appt on June 10^th and died 18 days later on the 28^th of June, having never left the hospital. I find it impossible to imagine that I will not see that face nor hear that laugh nor have him as my teaching partner ever again. And beyond all that the additional loss of no longer getting to see him with others - how he was when he was with X or Y or Z. (and how they were with him) Or no longer getting to see that sunny face or the subtle and ever so kind ways that he quietly gave to individuals going through cancer and other difficult life challenges. And especially no longer seeing him with his beloved family.

 

I have no words of comfort for his loved ones. Every word sounds trite or a mere platitude. I have no words for myself either. It is the poets that I turn to for reminders. I think of Kobayashi Nobuyuki, who published Haiku under the name of Issa. When his beloved daughter died he struggled to reconcile the Buddhist doctrine he sought to embrace – that life is transience – with his deep desire to hold his child again. 

In the year 1819, in the sixth month, Issa, composed the following haiku:

The world of dew

Is the world of dew

And yet, and yet.

 

My friend Patsy after weeks of my silence, kindly sent me this poem from Rumi.

 

 Secretly we spoke,

that wise one and me.

I said, Tell me the secrets of the world.

He said, Sh... Let silence

Tell you the secrets of the world.

 

And Karen sent these words:

 

 “to love a person

is to learn

the song

that is in their

heart

and to sing it to them

when they have

forgotten"

 

And an old friend from Nova Scotia recently wrote that the way he has dealt with loss is “to place even more value on the friends who are still here, and magnify their importance in my life….” And of course it is what we can do. It is why we go on living after loss…to be with our loved ones as we continue to journey together and to appreciate them while we have the chance. And to experience the pain of loss is the other side of the gift of great joy and love. What a gift we all have in each other.

 

And so we need each other in this life of ours. We need to be reminded of what we forget, of how precious it all is.  We need to be held, to speak, to be silent, to weep and grieve and mourn as well as to celebrate. Together. We need to embrace our humanness. When we lose those we love, no matter how spiritually aware we are, we miss them. And it is mostly unexpected, no matter how prepared we think we are. It is a loss that doesn’t get replaced. We learn to live with it. There is now a missing pearl in the beautiful strand that makes up our lives.

 

I have been silent because I didn’t know what to say or how to say it. I also didn’t know how to tell the joyful stories that also happened during this time, especially in Newfoundland. One day they too will be told.

 

For awhile, I am in Ottawa with my daughter, son-in-law and Sophie, who is now 3 yrs and 5 months. She is still the “Sophie factor” in my life and each day is a good day. Some people go to the “spa” to rejuvenate and I go to Ottawa to care for my Granddaughter. The effect is amazing.

 

Thank you for your notes. I am sorry to have worried you, dear readers, and dear friends. Life indeed goes on and the best way to honour John’s memory is to live fully. John was a gift in my and Gottfried’s life, and his death left me speechless. It is time to speak again.

 

With appreciation, gratitude and love to you all, and in memory always of John (who mostly liked my blog and wanted me to keep writing it)

 

Trudy

Comments

[Carol Ingells]

My dear Trudy,

Thank you for writing once more and thank you for waiting until you could. You express so well the inexpressible and my heart aches for you and Gottfried. I recognize well the distance between head and heart. Even head doesn't work so well for a while. Death of someone so important to us is a trauma and seems to affect every part of us. I will continue to be mindful of you and your difficult journey. I'm so glad you have time with Sophie.
With love,
Carol

[Kate Iredale]

Trudy, I too have been wondering about your silence. I'm so sorry for the loss of your dear friend. A life will be celebrated but the heart also needs to grieve. There's just no way around.

((hugs))