For as long as it takes

"For as long as it takes" is the title of an excellent article on grief and the myth of closure. It can be found here in last Sunday's Age.

The article talks of the "aftershocks" as a new wave of grief is triggered by memories or reminders. For me the aftershock comes with a start - a bewildered lostness and a physical knot inside - when I see photos or think of Ben and then suddenly realize that he is really gone. And gone so far away. I would walk 500 miles just to see your smile again. So I cry, and then do the next thing that has to be done. For as long as it takes.

One Weekend-from Keith, written after the funeral

I listened to two fathers speak of their adult children this weekend.
One not used to speaking in public, we laughed and interjected.
One a leader of men, we cried, silent.

A daughter's wedding.
A son's funeral.
Same age.
One right.
One seemingly wrong.
All with faith.

Both with reflections of birth, childhood and teenage years
space of their loved first born.
Pride in their adult child, choices made, successes achieved.
Words, attitudes and body language all communicating in volumes.
Unconditional love.

One with absolute delight walked his daughter up the aisle, watched as she
space left in the safe arms of her new husband. Life unfolding.

One with uncontrollable grief walked down the aisle behind the coffin of his
space son, watched as he was carried on the shoulders of six strong
space head shaven mates. Life closing in.

I know which father I would rather be. Yet God the father lives with the
space experience of the second father, not of the first.
A glimmer for the weeks.

Thanks - from Lindy

Some people asked me to expand on what we are grateful for. So here it is...

There are so many things about Ben's life that I am grateful for. I thought that I would limit this blog to the last six months and that horrible 'C' word. It is amazing that in such a traumatic time there were very many things to be thankful about along with treasured memories noone can take away.

We are thankful for;
>>> His gentle death which he had talked about. Just before he was intubated for the second time (the day before he died) we did a hypothetical 'just in case' scenario while not really believing that this would be our last goodbye. Chris took photos of messages Ben sent to a few people via hand gestures J. He told us then that to 'go' from an induced coma would be good because he knew about the coma state and that he would be peacefully unconscious and simply not wake up. He said to die that way would be the best. Less than 24 hours later his dying happened just like that. He never woke up.
>>> We were with him as he died and were given time and privacy during and after his death.
>>> He died being spared many more months of terrible health to then die anyway. As we lived a 'normal' summer holiday period, many times I would thank God that Ben hadn't had to survive disappointment after disappointment as he struggled to survive and couldn't do the things he enjoyed most like sun, sand and surf, good friends, lots of laughter, all done with high spirits and high energy levels.
>>> He missed out on the health complications involved in preparations for the Bone Marrow Transplant and then the inevitable and life-threatening side effects once it was done. He missed out on experiencing getting left behind as life kept moving people forward but not him as he remained debilitated and frustrated in hospital. He was unable to even stand after two weeks in ICU. He was weak and we were thankful that he didn't remain in that state any longer.
>>> He said he wanted to go home and was 'over' hospital. It was less than 24 hours when he moved on to his true and permanent home.
>>> Despite feeling pretty lousy he went to the Uni. Church weekend camp and was able to drum in the music team. Drumming had been an important part of his life for many years. It was the last time he drummed as far as I know.
>>> Pete Newmarch's 21st. That weekend was like a special opportunity that Ben was given. He had a 36 hour period of time when he could come home, sit on the driveway in the sun with Sallie and that night go to Pete's birthday. He checked with Pete prior to going to make sure he wouldn't be up-staging him. Pete had no hesitation. So Ben was able to be with lots of his friends after one month of being in hospital and seeing very few people. As it turned out that night was the last time he saw most of his friends.
>>> He was able to farewell his cousins and extended families with special and individual times with them.
>>> The existence of mobile phones and SMS. Ben was often too weak or in too much discomfort to speak on the phone but he would often respond to an SMS from friends or family. It kept him in the loop and kept us in touch with his reality.
>>> Ben went severely down hill at a time of year when Tim could spend hours at the hospital with him. It was a time for Tim to remember and treasure as he was able to be a significant support and affirmation for Ben in his last days.
>>> As Ben's health deteriorated hospital became the place he wanted to be. Once again we thank God for Box Hill. We visited the Alfred Hospital's ICU soon after Ben had gone and were overwhelmed at the size of it and the apparent lack of personal involvement of staff with their patient. Everyone knew Ben and knew us and that involvement was a great comfort to him and to us.
>>> He trusted the Doctors who cared for him in his short illness. He had respect for his specialist and was confident to follow his suggestions. The hospital registrar he thought was 'perfect'. She spent many long moments explaining technical things to Ben at different stages of his illness.
>>> He was treated with dignity and respect by all the staff at Box Hill. Plates of hot chips and Big M chocolate milk and access to the 'unoficial menu' were small joys that kept him going.
>>> So many friends who stood by him. We arrived at the church for Ben's funeral 2 hours early at about 12 midday and the church was buzzing with loads of Ben's friends who were preparing everything for the service.
>>> The funeral itself was a tribute to his life and faith and his manner of dying. The crowds of people were a comfort and encouragement.
>>> His trust in God. He firmly believed that God had his life under His control and was therefore uncomplaining and peaceful even as he grew sicker and the disease took over his body.
>>> The prayer of his heart was to be useful and for his life to have had a positive and powerful impact on others' lives and beliefs. It is an ongoing encouragement to hear and read of many lives challenged and changed for good.
>>> Wonderful times of both laughter and pain in the last six months. Moments that could only happen because of the increasing threat of the lymphoma.
>>> He watched a last video in ICU with Matt a few days before he died and a different one with Tim, Andy and Pete; all of them squashed up in front of a small TV monitor in Ben's small ICU cubicle.

This is a beginning but honestly, there are heaps more things to be thankful for. We don't grieve with the blackness of broken relationships or unresolved issues between us. Our grief is painful and wistful but with no regrets. For these things we are mega thankful :-)

The horizon: bushfires around Melbourne

Last night I took some photos of the northeast horizon from Doncaster. The best photo is on the ABC website here. Others can be seen here. I could tie the photos in with Ben... or I could just say this blog post is off the topic! For those readers not in Melbourne, yesterday was 46.4 Celsius and we are experiencing some of the worst bushfires in history. Tragically, many people have died and hundreds have lost homes. (If you wish to use one of these photos please contact me first.)

Getting over it?

A friend who we haven't seen for many years writes:

Chris and Lindy,

I find that I am still thinking about Ben and reflecting on your loss. My girls have received an increased number of hugs over the past weeks - hot weather permitting. I found that checking the blog every now and then I was enriched by the love and compassion expressed by so many people. Reading Tim's comment that it felt surreal and Lindy's struggle to imagine how time can heal I had a thought I would like to share with you.

My grandmother lost her first husband to appendicitis when she was only 25. She had two small boys and was pregnant with a little girl who died soon after she was born. My grandmother remarried a few years later (to my grandfather) and had 3 more children. She played golf, tennis, croquet & lawn bowls, was an early feminist, loved the opera & ballet and was a wicked solo player. She had an enormous zest for life, and a large circle of friends (most of whom were 20 years younger than she was). When I was in my 20's and she was in her late 90's I would visit her most weekends, in her last years she started reminiscing more and would talk about the wonderful times she had. One day she was talking about how she met her first husband at 16, how her parents didn't approve and she had to sneak out to see him (difficult when you are 15 miles apart) and then how difficult it was managing the farm after he died. Thinking how full her life had been I tactlessly remarked that she had "obviously gotten over him", but she replied "oh no my dear, I've never gotten over him". I could hear the grief in her voice and I realised that even after 70 years her love for him was strong and her memory of him had not faded.

So, never fear that you will lose your connection to Ben, he will be in your hearts always.

With love,
Sue.

Thanks Sue!

Today's mail

HGG

The ideas of Hans Georg Gadamer are not easy to understand. But it's a task I have set myself for my doctorate. I've already made use of him anonymously in the blog on historical consciousness (click to reread it). But this morning I read the following and it rang true as I think of the 'experience' of losing Ben. Gadamer says:

"Real experience is that whereby man becomes aware of his finiteness. In it are discovered the limits of the power and the self knowledge of his planning reason. The idea that everything can be reversed, that there is always time for everything and that everything somehow returns, proves to be illusory. To acknowledge [this]...is to have the insight that all the expectation and planning of finite beings is finite and limited."

It's so easy to live as if life is full of endless possibilities and as if our planning and reason will find solutions to all problems. Life does have wonderful  times and possibilities. But if we don't also learn how finite and fragile our lives are then we are bound to be disappointed. It seems to me that experiences like Ben's death can teach us these things so that we are more careful about what we value and about how we will spend the time that is given to us on this earth. 1 Peter 1:24-25 comes to mind.

Sorry for the sermon!
Chris

A hole in the ground

I caught the Royal Parade tram to uni this morning. The crane is up now, towering over the hole in the ground. The hole that Ben watched them dig on his way to and fro as he studied. He knew the excavators by name and had a favorite. This is the hole that he marveled at as he considered being part of its future: a world class neuroscience facility on the cutting edge of knowledge.
(Thanks to Stu for the photo taken for Ben when he was in hospital so he could keep up with progress. Stu and Ben used to chat by the hole.)

Life goes on

Life goes on. People move on. Life moves people on.

We too move on. Pete and Matt go back to school tomorrow. It's the start of a
new year with different teachers, different classes and for Pete the
beginning of Year 11 and VCE. Tim starts Medicine (yippeee) tomorrow.

And Ben is not here and won't ever be part of these significant changes.

A new surge of grief hits as we come to terms with 'the future' (tomorrow)
as a place where Ben has never been and will never be. Relentlessly and
unforgivingly time and the machine called life leave him further and further
behind. While this is 'time heals' for many, for us 'time' probably means
more like years rather than weeks. We don't want to move on and lose the
remaining and tenuous threads of contact with him.

We still give thanks though. Thanks for the gentle death he had. Thanks for
the suffering he was spared. Thanks for his full and fantastic life. The
list could go on. If you want a fuller list let me know and I will post one.

Hope 2009 is good for you.

Lindy