SAUDADE

SAUDADE

I found this Portuguese word on top of a pile of cards in a beautiful box of Untranslatable Words which sat on Dominic’s desk . The blurb says:  “Perfect words from other languages…..the perfect word…helps us explain ourselves to other people, and its existence quietly reassures us that a state of mind is not really rare, just rarely spoken of.”  I think he left it there for me to find! 

It is now almost seven weeks since Dominic left us, to be honest, I’m not sure if that feels like a long time or a short time….Some days have felt interminably long, others pass more quickly. At the beginning I didn’t want time to pass at all, I didn’t want to reach one day, seven days, two weeks, but the amazing things is that time just keeps going, no matter how bad or how good the day is.  If I could have repeated the worst day of my life again and again, I would have done, simply to stay in that moment, and for Dominic not to become just a memory.  Strange that we cannot grab hold of the day and just have more of that day, I had never thought about that before!

Firstly, to all of you who got in touch either by email or through the blog or by cards or coming and standing on our path (and not being able to hug us), sending flowers or gifts, or bringing meals, we want to say thank you. Your individual words and tokens of love meant so much to us, particularly in the early weeks. They brought us comfort and joy in the midst of heartache and pain and we have appreciated each one. I have been absolutely gobsmacked at some of your messages, especially those of you who have shared the impact that Dominic made on you, many of you from twenty or thirty years ago. I am incredibly humbled that you have gone to the effort of tracking us down  and taken time to share in such depth. I only wish he could read your messages.  Only this week, I received a card which was simply addressed to my name and the postcode of Aberdeen Royal Infirmary – six weeks later, it found its way onto my desk in the surgery where I work. And yet the message inside was just perfect for that day.  (Of course the down side of this is how scary it is that you can be tracked so easily, I haven’t worked in the hospital for more than twenty years, but the NHS has a big database). I do also want to publicly acknowledge my thanks to those who helped us in the last week before Dominic died, not least the medical team, who intuitively realised that we had a fairly clear idea of how we wanted things to go, and who were there for back up, but who never pushed too far. As cryptic as this sounds, I will be forever grateful for Dr. ‘Mary Poppins’, who spent the final long hours with us. She managed me, she managed the kids and she managed Dominic in a way that was a credit to her profession, she was a gift to us that night and I am so thankful to God for that. 

We had a very special farewell service for Dominic ten days after he died. The plan had always been to have a private service of cremation followed up by a church service. The latter of course was not to be, but we were able to have a slightly different farewell for him without having to worry too much about protocol etc. We all spoke, we read Bible verses, and poems, we had some  of his favourite songs and music, and despite our sadness, were able to remember many good things to celebrate about his life. I know that his heart would have been bursting with pride at the way the kids spoke about him and the impact he has had on their lives. It was a very special time.  It may be that in the future we have a memorial service, but no plans yet. 

We are all trying to pick up the pieces of our lives again with a very large gap in them. We go through the motions of work, we enjoy spending time with friends, we love the garden, we have walked for miles and miles, taking much joy in the countryside around us. We eat, we drive, we tend to our very sad and pathetic dog, we watch films, we go through photos, we remember holidays, and shared experiences. Much of this brings us joy and happiness, we can laugh and joke and tease, but all of it is done in front of a very dark grey, matt canvas which encircles our lives at present. Some days it feels suffocating, others less so, some days we clock watch until we can get to bed to tick another day off the calendar, other days go past and there is genuine focus to them and to the future. But a lot of the time, it feels like a struggle to keep looking up and out, rather than be consumed by woe and grief.  It is tiring ,and funnily enough where we struggled so much not having friends around us initially, the prospect of being with people now is a little overwhelming at times. Bear with us!

To go back to our previous hill walking theme – very often coming off the mountain is more challenging than going up. There is far less focus going downhill other than getting off the mountain and getting back to the car, job done, let’s get back home now for a hot bath and refreshment. There is a tendency to do it quickly; as an article in the Telegraph put it, “a mix of loose gravel, uneven ground, exhaustion and the physical exertion of walking downhill all combine to make the descent a more treacherous journey than the climb”.  You are much more likely to fall coming down the mountain, than going up. There is a tendency to forget how long the journey upwards was, and therefore frustration at how long there is still to go to get back to the car. And the other thing is, that if you have set off early in the day, on your way down, you inevitably pass others still on their way up, and your heart often groans for them at all that is still ahead.  These are the challenges for now. We want to walk them well. 

Just an initial  reflection abut grief and there will be more as the blogs continue. 

There is and will be a lot being said about grief  in 2020. There is already a lot of information to access generally, and I don’t need to repeat anything that has already been said. But I do want to say this, and I say it in love and I say it with the hope that it helps some of you as you come alongside others who are grieving. There are so many grieving people in our world, we cannot avoid them and no matter how hard, it is important that we all learn how to walk with them. Thankfully I have a fairly robust and resilient mindset.  (living with Dominic has taught me that!)  As a family we tend to be copers, and not take ourselves too seriously, we understand most people, we get where people come from, we can make all sorts of allowances for people as others do for us, and we are fortunate that there are six of us to grieve together in a little bubble.  Many others don’t have the same resilience, coping skills  and support  and for all you know, you might live next door to them, or you might sit in the same virtual office and they might be desperately sad and you might be the only person near them. This is not a rant, it is not a telling-off, it is just an observation and hopefully somebody reading this can be helped to make a difference in somebody’s  life because of this. 

Two things have dismayed us as a family. 

The first is the way that already friends can’t and won’t speak to us even face to face about what we are going through. We have each spent time with people recently and come back together and commented on this. It is more obvious in face to face meetings but often occurs electronically too. The conversation covers absolutely everything in the world, except Dominic and our grief.  Or often there is no conversation or comment at all. Sometimes this is excused by, “I didn’t want to upset you”, or “I’m sure you’re sick of speaking about it”, or “I don’t want to intrude”, or “I don’t know what to say”,  or “I know lots of people will be getting in touch” or sometimes it is not acknowledged at all, and there is just nothing, and I hate to say it but our Christian friends are often the worst at this and that makes me sad, because how on earth can we bring hope and comfort to the world when we don’t know what to say to people who are grieving?

So let me tell you what my responses are!   Anything that you will say out of love will not upset me.  I am upset, of course I’m upset, I’ll be upset for a very long time, but if anything is upsetting me it is the fact that I’ve lost my husband, and the kids have lost their dad, and at the moment I don’t think anything you can say, can actually upset us more than that!  And if what you are really saying is that you don’t know how to cope with us if we cry or get a little emotional, then,  get over yourself as Dominic would say.  What is a tear between friends? 

“I’m sure you’re sick of speaking about it” – no never, (and this is the second thing) I want to speak about Dominic all the time. I refuse for him to turn into Voldemort (He who must not be named!). Why would I suddenly not want to speak about him – oh it’s the whole thing about being upset, well we’ve covered that already!

“I don’t want to intrude” – I thought you were my friend doing life with me, how could that possibly be intruding?

“I don’t know what to say” – interesting especially when a physical hug often says what you want to say and the government have stopped you doing this for now – well friend, find the words, dig deep into your heart and your memory bank in your brain and express what you are feeling, not what you feel you should say, just what you actually feel and want to say, is all that you need to say, nothing profound, no big fancy words, you don’t have to quote deep stuff, just say what’s on your heart. Just say something! Is your heart so cold that you can honestly not think of anything to say?  If you can only tell me that life sucks, then tell me that, because life does suck, and at least by  saying it I know you are on the same page as me!!

Please do not be offended or hurt, if this has been you. This is not criticism and I do not hold it against you, I just simply want you to be able to walk with me or anybody else in this most awful, detestable valley of grief and loss,  more effectively and more intuitively.  Of course the danger is now, that no one will want to talk to us, so be it, but don’t waste the opportunity with the next person!!  And for those who pray – keep praying for us, in some ways we need them even more as we ponder the future, we reflect on the legacy that a wonderful man has left us and we try and make sense of the past two years.

Saudade – (Portuguese) – a bitter-sweet melancholic yearning for something beautiful that is now gone. There is pain yet also a pleasure that such loveliness once graced our lives. 

 

My Wilderness

My wilderness is painful, but lovely. 

Some part of my wilderness are covered with thorns and hurt my feet,

But I love it, and that’s why I call it “lovely pain”.

My wilderness is so hot that my tears disappear before falling on the ground.

But it is cool under Your shadows. 

My wilderness is like an endless road,

but short compared to eternity.

My wilderness is dry,

but an oasis with the Holy spirit’s rain.

My wilderness seems to be a lonely trip, but I am not alone – My beloved is on me.

Not only Him, but my faithful brothers and sisters,

I carry them all in my heart.

My wilderness is dangerous,

but safe, because I dwell between his shoulders.

So I love my wilderness,

because it takes me to the deeper part of You, Lord

and no-one can separate me from your arms for ever. 

Farshid Fathi