It’s been a
strange few days; stranger than my usual strangeness if you catch my drift.
The passing
away of someone unexpectedly, too soon-though I guess it’s always too soon for
the loved ones left behind-left me dwelling endlessly on the timeless question
of life after death and death in general…
The person
in question was not a close friend or immediate member of my family but she was
connected to us in a personal way and her own circumstances were similar to my
own; as a mother, a single parent bringing up two children alone and knowing
some of the background, well I empathized on many levels: To die before having the opportunity to see
her offspring move into full maturity and perhaps one day have a family of
their own; and to die before her own
mother, whose grief I witnessed first- hand, no parent expects their child to
die before them. A tragedy that is played out every second of every day all
around us-and at some point it comes to each and every one of us.
As I sat contemplating the place I later named
Dead hotel I was struck by how clinical and detached everything seemed-the
stark ugliness of the industrial estate around us, graffiti sprawled walls,
grey and colorless, so far removed from what in my mind should be a place to mourn
the passing of a loved one. A hotel for
the dead; each with their own room- glass panel separating the corpse from its
loved ones, a sitting room for the mourners, toilets, bar, shop and on-sight
crematorium: Perhaps it’s just a necessary service, perhaps I’m too sensitive,
perhaps not everyone perceives it to be as surreal as I do-or maybe it really
is as mad and perverse as I perceive it to be! I had the uncanny feeling I was
living a scene out of ‘Brave new world’ or even ‘1984’-big brother present and
controlling even in death.
Yes I have
too much imagination-call me over sensitive too if you wish-but something just
does not seem remotely right in the way death is played out here in the West-or
in some places in the West I should at least clarify. No matter what, your religious,
spiritual or non- belief-I believe a more natural, simplistic, dignified
passing to be more fitting. Sadly, one’s economic status even in death is tragically
relevant- Spain is statistically the second most expensive place in Europe to
die! Ironic really given it’s also one of the worst hit by the economic
recession. Never ends, does it? Bitter sweet symphony springs to mind.
I began writing this some time ago -and finish
whilst already grieving for the imminent departure of my grandmother from this world-end
of an era-end of a generation. I hope her send -off is more humanistic, down to
earth, with room for smiles and laughter amongst the grief-as we remember her
life; her pink fluffy slippers, her sense of humor, her stubbornness, down the
pub in her wheelchair, beer in hand wearing the infamous slippers that I of
course forgot to remove before leaving the house-anecdotes that will remain
with us for years to come. Life is short-too short for some-my gran however has
lived a long and full life-a life tinged in parts with sadness and difficulty
but also with happiness, good fortune and love. And one thing more
importantly-a sense of humor-this is one family trait I shall endeavor to
continue no matter what!
LONESOME DOLL
A PLASTIC SHELL
A DISTANT SONG-ESSENCE LONG GONE
DETACHED, MISMATCHED
SNATCHED FROM THIS LIFE-UNNECESARY STRIFE
CLINICAL HOTEL
CYNICAL FAREWELL
GOODBYE MY LOVE, WITH ME FOREVER, YET ABOVE
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