We recently got one of those dreaded phone calls: Drop everything. Come this instant.

My aunt was suddenly gravely ill.

I and my nuclear family live in Canada but all members of both maternal and paternal families have always lived in the UK. Despite this, we've managed to keep close ties, even though my sibs and I didn't know the grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins too personally, the way we would have if we'd lived closer. It's always been remarkable to me that there are nevertheless strong ties amongst us. When we cousins meet, very infrequently, it's like seeing long-lost friends, and we're glad of it. When first the grandparents passed away, and I couldn't be there, and then uncles, then aunts started going, some way too young, and I wasn't there, and then even a cousin, younger than me, there was an extra measure of sadness because of the distance and the years lost. It sounds ridiculous after the fact to say "I was too busy at work" to enjoy the relationships before all else but that's how it's gone, for all of us, both ways (them over there and us over here). Yet again, same thing for me this time - my mom went to be with her sister and I am "keeping the faith" here at home. Thoughts, conversations, discussions, choices, memories, decisions. I'm lucky they involve me by phone as much as they do, as that is what I need to be able to cope with the situation and the distance.

My aunt is still hanging on, contrary to expectations, but the outlook is bleak. I have always felt a special bond with her and have often visualized the time when I would be back over the sea to visit. I love her musical voice and her sense of fun and the way she's like my mom but with her own flair too. She is my beautiful aunt, seen as a teen in an old photo, sporting her tartan and beating a drum, with her cloud of dark hair and those enormous brown eyes gazing out at me from all the years past. She knew me as the baby and toddler I was before we emigrated to Canada, and loved me since then the way you do a babe - just because they exist. She and my aunts and grandparents used their childhood pet name for me, which made me feel included and cared for in the extended family. On past visits my aunt and I have chatted for hours over tea while gazing out the French windows at the beautiful terraced garden that she had skilfully designed and lovingly tended.

A big part of the reason I haven't gone over now, or for many years, is due to my extreme fear of flying. So even with, or maybe especially because of the spectre of imminent death, I can't go. It actually gets worse for me each time, not better. I somewhat believe in the process of desensitization but it doesn't seem to work for me wrt flying. I don't mind the potential death part so much. It's the getting there that bothers me.

My aunt is Catholic, the strongest one in the family by far. One of her last projects was to put in a garden at the local church. Apparently, it was quite a big undertaking (no pun intended, hahahahahahaahahahahaaha - sorry, that's a nurse's "black humour" for you!) I'd like to see it some day. I'd rather see her again, but there ya go. That's life, as they say.

I was baptized Catholic - against my will, as I like to say (joking) - as my parents did it to me when I was a squalling infant. But, for whatever reasons, some of which I can't even explain (they're at the feeling level, not the thinking one) I have never been inclined to go Catholic. My search for a religious home has been restricted to Protestant and quasi-Protestant groups. I don't mind, though, the tradition of burning a candle (outside a church setting) as some kind of ritual or prayer in trying circumstances. When we can't do much else, we do that, as I and my sibs are doing now (some in church, most outside it).

This is the aunt who was married to the dashing Royal Navy officer. I posted about them a while back. He died young-ish and she has been hauntingly sad ever since. Although I didn't know him well and he wasn't my "blood uncle", he sent me postcards from all over the world while he travelled aboard Her Majesty's vessels. It was exciting as a young teen to receive postcards from a handsome Navy man whose ports of call were so exotic. I still have the cards and every now and then I take them out to look at again. This aunt and uncle never had any children so maybe at times they made do with me.

Even with so many relatives and friends passing away through the years, and with my lifelong interest in religion, and the years spent devoted to this or that denomination or group, I haven't thought much about that Mystery which comes the way of all flesh. I prefer the term "life after death" rather than "the afterlife", which sounds too Ancient Egyptian for me. "Eternal life" works too if you come at it from a religious perspective. I pretty much think that we'll find out soon enough so no use worrying over something we will never answer, this side of the Great Beyond.

I think part of the grieving (or pre-grieving if you will, as in this case my ill aunt is still alive, for the moment) is the losses we have already had rising up again (remembering others that have gone before) as well as the anticipatory loss we feel over deaths to come of other loved ones, especially those we sense will be brutal to deal with. In my case too there is regret over just being too far away to make it practical to have spent a lot of time with family overseas or to attend bedsides or funeral services as I would have chosen if possible.

Often when someone posts about a loved one who has died they or others will share a good thought or poem or song about grief or death or life beyond our blue marble. It seems that we all can identify with the emotions, feelings, experiences, lessons, compassion, wisdom, hope and sheer poetry in such words.

I came across a verse that resonates with me at this time. Which is the whole point of this post. It brings a tear but I feel beauty in the words and the rhythm:

'For what is it to die,
But to stand in the sun and melt into the wind?
And when the Earth has claimed our limbs,
Then we shall truly dance.'

-Kahlil Gibran, 'The Prophet'

'Then we shall truly dance' - love that.



Edited 8 time(s). Last edit at 10/05/2013 12:48AM by Nightingale.

Hope all goes as well as it can with your Aunt. Those of us that have ties to older generations are lucky.

Thank you, Sus!

And yes, it's preferable to have had the loving relationships and suffer the pain of loss. That's a strong point to hang onto at these times. I deeply regret that I didn't get that last good visit in, when everything was the same as before and a time of permanent parting seemed in the far away distance.

We're at the time now when we're all hoping for either a "miraculous" turnaround (thanks to the wonders of medical science) or more realistically, for my aunt to be at peace.

I'm inching towards resignation at the impending loss but it's excruciating, as we all know only too well. Just yesterday (it seems) she was so lively and beautiful and then there's her life span, done. A lesson about time I have to learn over and over and over again.

Cue the cowboy blues...

Nightingale Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
> We recently got one of those dreaded phone calls:
> Drop everything. Come this instant.

And your Aunt has a lovely neice.

> 'For what is it to die,
> But to stand in the sun and melt into the wind?
> And when the Earth has claimed our limbs,
> Then we shall truly dance.'
>
> -Kahlil Gibran, 'The Prophet'

What a beautiful thought.

May your Aunt be comfortable in this process and you take care of you on this side of the Pond.

Hello Helen

I always appreciate your comments. We don't see enough of you!

You said, "And your Aunt has a lovely neice."

Aww, thanks. You are too kind!

Yes, we are hoping for comfort and peace - that's what the candles are about. So far, it hasn't been going that way. Maybe I need to be more vigilant with the candles (no worries, I'm not superstitious).

I keep saying over and over to myself the words:

'...melt into the wind.
...Then we shall truly dance.'

It really helps.

Now I'm inspired to dig out my old poetry books from school. I'm reminded that I used to send my Navy uncle snippets of my favourite poetry while he was circling the globe. At that time I swooned over Elizabeth Barrett Browning and especially her 'How Do I Love Thee' poem. Even now it's one of the few poems from which I can recite even a line or two by memory. I'm not too sophisticated in my taste - I enjoy rhymes, along the lines of Dr. Seuss, and rhythm, and stuff I can understand without an interpreter!



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 10/05/2013 12:42AM by Nightingale.

Thanks for a beautiful post, and Nightingale, I'm sorry about your Aunt.

My grandfather, who I have been extremely close to all my life, passed away in April. He was 3,000 miles away I was able to get there in time to say goodbye. I was so glad I did, both to see him and to be there for my Grandmother, who needed me there.

I also really enjoyed spending time with cousins I rarely see during the week after he died and before the funeral, I know it would have made my Grandfather happy to have us enjoying time together as family was what was most important to him. It really made me think about family and what matters most.

Go get a prescription for Xanax (or something similar) so you can fly and spend time with them, maybe see your Aunt one last time! I am pathologically afraid of flying too, and it works, at least for me.

Once it kicks in I know in my head I'm still afraid of flying, but I just can't get worked up about it or actually feel fear. Pre- Xanax I've also been known to hit the bar nearest the gate and down 2 cranberry vodkas right before boarding. It makes flying bearable. Good luck!

Thank you, spwdone.

I'm glad you got to say good-bye to your grandfather. It's a tribute that you/we make the journey if we can and yes, it's great to see cousins and others and spend time with people who are sympatico.

I could get an Rx for a sedative but still, I prefer to be conscious and alert throughout the flight. I don't kick off my shoes, undo the seatbelt and sit back and relax, at all. Gotta be ready for whatever may come up. I also always want to sit right beside the emergency exit. You have to look like you are reliable and strong and calm and good in times of trouble before they let you sit there though.

I very much want to see my aunt, I realized, and that was when I remembered that my passport is expired. I have no clue how long it takes to renew it but weeks, at least, I imagine. :(

I'm disappointed in myself in that I am the one that's always preaching about being prepared and having multiple back-up plans for everything. How could I let my passport expire when my entire extended family lives overseas? But I live on a major earthquake fault - do I have an earthquake kit - uh, not so much. Pieces of one litter my house but it's not all together or workable. Do I have important phone numbers at hand? Not really. Have I even got a little first aid kit in the washroom? Sewing needle? Freezer meals? Elbow patch? Uh...

But I'll keep working on the passport app and the Xanax front. It's always good to have it if it's needed. The last flight I was on was pretty desperate. And my mother said in one of our transatlantic phone calls that during her flight over to the UK there was a lot of turbulence. I really didn't need to know that.

People who don't have this pathological fear of flying *really* don't get what it's like. There is nothing rational about it, so you can't talk yourself out of it or respond easily to comments like "just do it". Yeah. OK. Gotcha. Will do.

Or maybe not. :/

But wanting to see relatives is a good motivator. I'm working on it...



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 10/11/2013 03:30PM by Nightingale.

My best love to you Nightingale, and to your aunt. You are obviously part of a loving and thoughtful and spiritual (I don't mean religious)family because you write so beautifully and with such depth. Death is a sad sad thing, but also something very sweet too, as it makes us consider the things we don't stop to think about too often, in this case you so-loving Aunt and Uncle.

I hope all goes well with your aunt. I couldn't help thinking of how much your uncle is waiting impatiently for his loved one on the other side, and the sadness that is about her since his death will be gone, in that wonderful moment when they meet again. I know it is so sad for you, but in that moment,there will only be happiness for them. Yes I beleive in a life after death, a life where love is paramount and all that is beautiful and part of us will be magnified. No need for Mormon sealings or anything like that, just love. I wish that for you aunt, and yes for you too.

Take care, and my love to you and yours,

Lynn

Thank you fluhist, for your sweet reply. You did get me thinking about them, instead of me, which is how it should be.

I know nothing about life after death (obviouslY) and so I have no clue what's going to go on. But, one way or the other, you're right that my aunt's sadness will be gone. She will either be reunited with her beloved, as so many believe, or she will be at peace through the nothingness that death may be.

I like your emphasis on love. That is what I count on, no matter what happens. "No need for anything" else is right.

Someone wrote somewhere about the excruciating process. This is what has been going on for weeks now. I feel bad thinking it's excruciating for us, when it's my aunt who is going through it.

Meanwhile, I'm still fumbling with the passport app and desperate to be there to hold my aunt's hand and tell her I love her, and always have.

But I'm not going to make it. The time is past. It's that time in a loved one's illness to accept that it's better for them to slip away than to keep them here selfishly for our own needs. That happened with my dad too, where we had to make a choice to say no to further procedures. As hard as it was to utter that word, no, we knew it had been part of his final wishes that we wouldn't prolong the agony, so to speak.

I got a bit complacent as my aunt seemed to rally and no doctor told my mom or cousins or aunt that things weren't going to go well. I thought she would still be there, no matter when I finally turned up.

This morning, her priest gave my aunt last rites.

It's not my flavour of religion but it's something she has believed in all her life, so the family over there called the priest in today. Now they are just waiting at her bedside. I regret very much not being there too.

I forgot all about the sun and the melting and the dancing for a while today. As Ecclesiastes 3 says:

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:

2 A time to be born, and a time to die; ...

4 A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; ...


My sister in Minnesota is going to light candles tonight, with her little girl. There's not much else any of us, this far away, can do. But just a gesture of love and remembrance.


Today, first the weeping. Tomorrow, maybe, the dancing? Highland dancing. My aunt would love that.


To make this somewhat more on topic, I'll say that it's such a relief to know she will have a nice funeral service where people will talk about HER, not RELIGION, and if she is buried in a "costume" of any sort, it will not be an ugly white gown with a veil for her face but rather a beautiful kilt and a cocky cap to match my fun and beautiful aunty.



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 10/11/2013 03:53PM by Nightingale.