Categories: uncategorized
Date: 08 December 2006 15:40:28
I felt the need to blog in invisible ink.
I've spoken before (I think) of how I've sometimes felt the need to gag myself because what I say is so clearly out of line with what everybody else thinks, to the point of causing great upset and offence that's often totally unexpected to me since I thought I was just stating the obvious. And yet I feel the need to say these things. So perhaps the best thing would be to write a secret blog that no-one can read. Anyway, until I do that .... At the moment I feel a need to state the obvious so please be warned that this may be offensive or upsetting, particularly if, like me, you are in an emotionally-challenged state, e.g. grieving over a recent bereavement. Or two (no, that's not a boast, just an advert). If that's you, then go away and read something else. Really, no, please - I've lost enough friends already through my big mouth.
This is, ostensibly, a tale of two deaths. Except that, of course, it's not. In the best traditions of blogging this of course has absolutely nothing to do with the events that ended the lives of two friends of mine, and is purely about the wierd goings-on between my two ears. But, well, you're reading my blog so presumably you know to expect that. If not, then it's long past time that you realized that nothing in this blog has anything to do with anything except my ever-disappearing marbles.
The bare facts are these: one colleague and friend died suddenly at a young age (younger than me, albeit only just) a little over two weeks ago. Let's call him Mastrick. And another friend, Mike, died suddenly at an even younger age the following week. Mastrick led a fairly normal life - professional career, wife, kids, and was good at his job and at being a family man, but probably not exceptional in either way. (I'm avoiding the obituarial conventions of overstating everything, and trying to be objective - even though I'm aware what folly that is). Mike didn't seem to have much of a career as yet, and no wife or kids, and yet lived an essentially exceptional life - hotfooting it half-way round the world to a continent where he could make a lot more practical difference to people's lives than is possible in the west. (I'm trying to avoid underplaying the emotional difference he made here - evidence of which is all over the wibsite and in many other places, and will reverberate for a long time to come). He did things differently and, more to the point, he did things.
Those are the so-called facts. And I want to hold up my reactions and examine them in the light of those facts. I was shocked firstly about Mastrick, and dazed for a day or two during which the resulting workload piled up and saved me having to think very much about anything for a while. When I did get to think I just kept wondering how his family would cope without him. What is it like to grow up with your dad just an ever-decreasing memory? How hard is it to try and bring up two children to remember their dad while also trying to move on with life? I find it hard to imagine even being able to get up out of bed in the morning and face the world under those circumstances. And that was how I felt pretty much until the funeral, when emotion overcame me more. I shed a lot of salty water, and felt afterwards as if I had worked it through, got it out of my system. I feel calm and rational about Mastrick's death now. It's a hard unpleasant fact of life but not one that's likely to lead me to jump off a bridge. What about Mike? I heard about him at the start of Mastrick's funeral, which may have pumped up the emotional adrenalin running through my brain, or it may have been ignored because of all the emotions caused by Mastrick's death. Either way I got straight to the calm, rational stage about Mike without any preamble. The stock cod-psychiatrist in me says I simply haven't faced up to it yet and am in denial, but I know a load of boloney when I see it, even when it's me spouting it. I just haven't been affected by Mike's death in the same way. Why?
Well, Mike's was the more shocking death by virtue of his age, but perhaps less shocking overall - life expectancy in India is rather lower than here, likelihood of violent death are rather higher there than heart attacks at age 36 here. But I don't think shock is significant here.
The main difference I can identify is that when I look at Mastrick I see potential - someone who could go further with his career, with his life and, in particular, someone who could be a useful husband and father for another 10, 20, 50 years. Potential, more than actual achievement. But when I look at Mike I see achievements. Sure there was huge potential, but he had already achieved more than most of us will ever manage in this life. There's so much to celebrate in any life - but by most measures Mike's life has much, much more to celebrate than most. He has been an inspiration to so many by his actions.
And then there's the family issue. The old proverb/blessing is "Grandfather die, father die, son die" - that is the order we expect things to happen in, and that is the order we like them to happen in. In that respect, Mastrick got it right (by dying before his sons), but I don't know. It's a tragedy for two kids to lose their dad, and Mike doesn't inhabit the same position for any of us that Mastrick did to his children. I'm sure Mike's parents are gutted, and probably feel much worse than Mastrick's kids do. But I'm sorry, I remain convinced that Mastrick's is the bigger tragedy. I'm just glad I was able to know them both.