Death, Dealing with Loss (and a beautiful afternoon)

Coffee & Chats

Death, Dealing with Loss (& a beautiful afternoon)

PUBLISHED ON: OCT 20, 2024 BY: Meera

Welcome to the first episode of Coffee and Chats. Here, I meet you over a soothing beverage (and maybe a snacker-oo, who knows?) as I discuss what’s been on my mind. Today’s topic: death and dealing with loss. What a great start!

but first, what’s my bev?

Ironically, my preferred beverage today is not a coffee, but a tea (feels like a fitting analogy to some aspect of my life, haha.)

Check this weather…

It is so warm here—not in a dreadful way at all. It is a beautiful, sunny October afternoon (complemented well with hot tea). It’s a little breezy, too. What a lovely time to be alive—perhaps a little too perfect to talk about death.

let’s chat, shall we?

Death. I will die, you will die. Everything that has life – friends, lovers, foes, strangers, the cactus, and cats – will wilt, shrivel, and perhaps be forgotten.

We will watch people go. People will watch us go.

The first time I watched someone go was when I was 9 years old. My grandfather died at 72. I recall it was a Friday, I can still picture the dress I wore (with two American flag-themed bows on each shoulder strap) and that it was 11 pm when we got the call from the hospital. I remember crying for hours after the news.

Years after his death, I still felt sadness to the same degree when I thought of him. I didn’t know how to deal with the fact that the person that I’ve always known to sit in one specific chair, the person I could tell was around by his unique footsteps doesn’t exist anymore. I’ll never hear his voice again, nor his footsteps and his chair will be sat on by other people.

I didn’t know how to deal with death or loss. And I’m not sure I do now, because since then, I haven’t lost another person that close to me.

It’s been 11 years since he passed. When I think of him now, I don’t feel sad, which feels strange. Time is a long bridge between then and now – so much distance.

Lucy

When I was 14, we got a half-German Shepherd named Lucy, whom I used to call Lucy-Lou. She was an absolute bundle of joy—the epitome of innocence. She was so sweet and kind, and I loved her immensely.

I remember one incident quite clearly, not too long after we got her: I had put her in an enclosed area and locked a little gate behind her to maintain separation from our other dog, Bruno, as she hadn’t been introduced to him, yet. I was going to fetch her some water.

As I was away, I heard an alarming squeal coming from her. It was horrific and terrifying – such loudness from a puppy. I immediately rushed back to her to see that she attempted to follow me by squeezing her body through one of the vertical spaces of the gate. She had gotten stuck. I was trying to get her through without hurting her. I screamed for help but no one was around. Eventually, she managed to shimmy herself through, back to her side of the gate.

I opened the gate and scooped her in my arms, crying in panic and apologising. She wee’d herself and my shirt got wet but I didn’t mind. I remember that it was hot and distracting. I sat on the floor for close to an hour as she stayed put in my arms. At that moment, I promised I’d always protect her, as that incident made me feel protective of her.

But, right there at that moment, there was this strong feeling, deep down, that Lucy wouldn’t stick around for a while. It was one of those gut feelings that had absolutely no reason.

Five months later, Lucy passed suddenly of sickness.

I recall it was a night in September, as I lay asleep at 7 pm in my bed, still reeking of the day at school. My sisters were in the room. In my sleep, I heard my brother crying, but it didn’t alarm me.

But then, he said, “Lucy died.”

I jumped abruptly out of sleep in sheer panic, barely awake, gasping for air as I said “No, No, No!” They weren’t words as much as heavy breaths, like screaming and drowning at the same time. My sweet baby girl.

I cried for days in disbelief, and I still do now and again when I think about her. It’s been 7 years since she died.

Bruno

My sweet baby boy, Bruno. I used to call him Baby Brunes (sometimes BB Brunes, like the French band). He was almost 7 years old, and I swore he’d live a full life of thirteen years.

When we first got him, on the half-an-hour drive to his new home, I held him in my arms all the way – he was just a few weeks old. When we arrived and I put him down, he let out the longest wee. What a polite boy not to unleash that baggage onto me. Very kind!

He was almost always “smiling” and had such a gentle demeanor. He was also very protective.

He passed away in late May, this year, around 4 pm on a hot afternoon. This wound’s still fresh.

I remember him being carried away to be buried, and my eyes were on him until he was out of sight, in utter disbelief that that was the last time I’d ever see him. Ever. It pained.

About two months ago, I woke up from a dream of him, and barely clinging to consciousness, I said to myself, “I have to see Bruno tomorrow,” then reality rushed in fast. I checked the time and it was 3:33 am.

Is there a heaven?

We all like to think that our loved ones are in a better place – one where they’re at peace, and happy, and still have consciousness, maybe, it’s because we still want them to be alive, even if it’s far away from us. Also, it’s because we don’t want to die, but when we do, at least we’d to meet the people we’ve lost, again. The idea of heaven is perhaps only clung to a string of hope.

I hoped there was a heaven and that Baby Brunes and Lucy-Lou had reunited (they were great friends for the short while that Lucy was around). The title of that Disney movie “All Dogs Go to Heaven” always makes me smile as I think about them.

Also, I sort of hoped heaven would be like retirement – after the hard work of life, you’re welcomed to the afterparty (but at some point that would get boring, right?)

My fingers weren’t tightly crossed for heaven, but I’ve loosened them all the way when I realised that everyday is a day spent in heaven. This life is heaven. We’re breathing and it’s a beautiful day!

Advise: don’t look forward to retirement/ version 2.0 of life. This is the only life – the only one we get. And maybe there’s beauty in that.

have we all experienced “death”?

Here’s a theory to consider:

What if death is like a deep sleep without any dreams? And every time we experience that, it’s a preview of death.

Kind of sad and disappointing, actually, but it seems fair.

losing people in ways beside death

It’s not easy to let go of friends, lovers, and family members even when it’s the right thing to do.

It’s the attachment to those persons which makes it so difficult. They are the people who you grew up with, or watched you grow, with whom you’ve felt a deep connection, and share many defining memories.

The things around our spaces remind us of them – our own eyes or nose (if it’s a family member), the smell of a certain perfume, or a specific shirt, movie, phrase, or song we shared with friends or partners.

Letting go is not ripping off a band-aid, it’s sticking a finger in an open wound.

But, we have to let go of things that break us down. But, I believe it can be done so gently. We can allow it to be tragic, accept it for what it is, and acknowledge the feelings of emptiness and loneliness. We have to allow ourselves to come to terms with why it had to happen, by allowing grace to ourselves and to the ones we need to pull away from, even if that means placing our forgiveness in their hands.

do you need to forgive in order to heal?

In most cases, I think it’s best to find some semblance of forgiveness for people who cause hurt and destruction to be completely at peace, but surely not always.

In the case that I cannot forgive that person, I would just feel sorry for them.

Sorry that they’ve never been allowed guidance, patience, respect, and love because if they were allowed those things, it’s likely they wouldn’t have gone down that path which led to us being hurt.

I think it can be enough to feel sorry for people you can’t forgive as it makes it easier to move forward. “I’m sorry you’ve been let down to let me and others down. But now I must go.”

the aftermath of loss

Losing people and pets is such a messy, uncertain, and surreal thing to happen. It’s the attachment that’s still very present even when they are no longer attached to us. We have a strong yearning for what used to be, knowing that we’ll never have that again. And, it can feel very unfair as if they’ve been robbed of life or wronged when it’s due to illness or murder. It’s tragic.

there’s no right way to grieve

The next time I lose someone close, I know it will be messy and painful, and that pain may last for years. But it becomes less painful as time goes by: it will be an open wound at first, then a nasty scar, an ache, then a tingle when you brush the mark.

The point isn’t to feel less grief and move on with life, as much as it is to deal with life after being suddenly ripped away from the ones we love.

I do know that it’s okay to feel like the lights have shut off, and we’re in the dark and we prefer it that way. And we don’t know when we’ll step back out where there’s light. I know that we should completely immerse ourselves in the waves of sadness because if we resist emptying those feelings out as much as we need, we’ll have them bottled up and carry them around wherever we go.

across all differences, we’re all united by one fate

Hello friend, hello stranger, hello kitty cat, and cockroaches under the cupboard. Like spring flowers, we’re all destined to be greeted by the guest of winter, and that’s okay. But before she arrives, we’ll have to run our most important errands (assuming we don’t get plucked in the spring).

Final Words

Give your dog some extra pets, make the phone call you’ve been putting off, watch the movie you’ve been wanting to watch for a while, catch the sunrise, and enjoy the tea while it’s still hot.

I’ve finished my tea, and I think I’ll go have another soon.

Thanks for sticking around til the end. That was episode one of Coffee & Chats. Stay tuned for the next one 🙂