Grief and Guilt

I found these notes in my drive and had forgotten to post them, discovering them today seemed like the right moment to do so.

 

A very dear friend of mine passed away yesterday afternoon.

I’m not certain if others respond in similar ways but the geographical location, the exact scenario I am in when I have ever received news like this is seared into my mind:

When Gran died in 2010, it was just before 6am and I was getting changed in the locker room of the hotel where I was working, preparing to start a breakfast shift.

When Dad passed away I was on a bus, with my partner at the time, heading out of Edinburgh for a day out.

Yesterday, I was standing at the St Enoch subway station, having just finished a shift at House of Frasers.

 

There was that overwhelming moment where all I wanted to do was stop standing and go into the fetal position right there on the ground, that force of life within me knocked out momentarily. But if I did this, I would draw unwanted attention to myself.

Although I don’t know if it is all that unwanted, I want to be held close by someone in equal measure of wanting complete isolation and invisibility from the world.

I managed to make myself as invisible as possible whilst journeying home and then, once in the safety of my flat, of my four walls, I let the pain come through me.

I am a proponent for the idea that death simply means continuation, but in another plain, reunited with spirit and full of the true light which we have forgotten exists in all of us on earth. Nonetheless, the sadness is potent, tangible, there is a bitterness which sits on the tongue.

Why did they have to suffer so much?

Why couldn’t I have done more to help them?

Why didn’t I call more often?

Kevin and I went to High school together in Zimbabwe and we became fast friends when we realised we were on the same page i.e that we both liked boys. I remember his sassy, outlandish comments about the seniors, the stories we swapped, the guys we fancied from a distance. We supported each other through a rather tumultuous period in school when there was a lot of bullying going on and I honestly do not know how it might have been without him there by my side, to shoulder the anxious period we experienced.

We managed to survive the remaining time and then went our separate ways, I moved to the UK, he went to South Africa to further his studies.

We weren’t in constant communication, it was just every now and then that we would message and see how the other was getting on.

I saw him last year for the first time in near enough 8 years and he hadn’t mentioned that he wasn’t well. So it came as a shock to discover him excruciatingly thin and living with HIV and Aids. This fatal disease might not seem so potent in places such as the UK with the advent of wonderful drugs and the ease of access to them. However, from someone in a very low income bracket, living in South Africa, his options were very limited and I think his own guilt had delayed the acceptance of the disease which meant that by the time he had accepted it, it was far too late to do anything.

It hurts me to think that Kevin did not get to experience more in this life but I trust that he is now fully united with his highest self and continuing his soulful growth out with the bounds of this reality.

I try not to berate myself too much for what I could have done more of for him because I know he doesn’t hold anything against me.

I guess my message here is simply, appreciate life. Be thankful for what you have, no matter how small you may think it is.

The emotions of loss are perplexing and heavy but they must be felt and embraced in order for us to move forward.

Allow the hurt

Allow the emptiness

Allow the desolation

Allow the anger

Allow the tears

For after allowing all these to pass, there is always sunshine awaiting us on the other side. Just as the sky will momentarily be obscured by heavy, grey clouds, there is eternally a blue vista and radiant sun that is simply out of sight for a moment.