Moment of Despair in Music: Loss of a Loved One

The music in the simple video below, is reflective of the sadness expressed here in this post, a post which I didn't expect to write ... perhaps listen to the video, whilst reading my random thoughts below. Whilst the music quality is not the best, it just helps to share sometimes ....




There has been so much I have wanted to write in the last few weeks, about life, change, mortality. The sadness, the joy.

Those moments when one really understands, just for a moment, the changing and fleeting nature of our lives. How short life really is. How precious it is.... and to acknowledge that change is inevitable.

I have always been a reflective person, sometimes to my detriment, but the passing away of my Grandma on 13 June 2010, led me into an unknown territory, full of emotional roller coasters.

I adored and loved my Grandma. To me, she was the perfect Grandma, a Grandma that anyone would wish for, and she loved me unconditionally, whatever 'phase' I might have been going through.

The photo here is of my Grandma when she was young, so hard to imagine. A different time, generation. I wish that I had known more of my Grandma's younger life... I always thought I had time to find out more

But it is too late, the time to do this has gone ... Don't let this happen to you, to miss an opportunity to learn more about your loved ones. We often forget the mortality of life.

I could never imagine a life without Grandma in my life, but that moment has arrived. Even so, I can't seem to acknowledge this.

I held my Grandma's hand the night she died. My mum phoned me whilst I was watching 'Dr Who' on the television... I listened to the answering machine, thinking that I would call back later, I was too warm and cosy. But I heard the desperation in her voice... Megan, pick up, pick up, this is REALLY important, please pick up...

I knew something was wrong immediately. It was a similar scenario to the night my Grandad died in 2000. I picked up the phone, not wanting to hear what she had to say, knowing somehow, that this was the time I had dreaded for so many years. ...

'Grandma has died' she said, I could feel the shock in her voice, and the restraint in holding back the grief ... I stopped, frozen, filled with an unknown emotion, shock perhaps. 'No, no, NO, you're wrong.... no, NO' ... I cried, as I then frantically paced around the room in circles, with the phone in my hand.... NO....

I don't remember the exact words we said, but I knew I had to be there, go to her, leave the warm 'cocoon' of my home that I had not been out for some time. I begged and pleaded and finally, mum and her partner allowed me to go with them.

I didn't know that Grandma would still be in the house where she had died... we arrived, my mother filled with adrenalin as she diverted her emotions into practical 'back-seat' driving - to get there as quickly as possible. Not that it would have made any difference. It was then that I knew that I had to be strong for my mum, to help, just to be there, and not to be an additional burden.

We had driven the familiar route to her house, drawing closer, each corner, each turn, and the car filled with ... I don't know what ...tension? Apprehension? This wasn't 'real'. It wasn't really happening. This route to my Grandma's home was so familiar, and I remember thinking that I would never drive this way again.

Twenty-five years, and never again.

We drove down the boulevard and passed the familiar red postbox that marked the road to turn into the maze of houses and neighbourhood where she and her husband lived. Turn right, then left, then right again, and then around a semi-circular avenue, one side filled with trees; the other, with homes, lights flickering through the curtains, of people living out their everyday lives, unsuspecting of our grief and shock as we passed by.

As we drew closer to the familiar park outside of Grandma's house, I noticed there was no ambulance, no cars, no fuss at all. It was quiet. Dark and quiet... the house seemed normal, nothing out of the ordinary. ...'I think she must have been taken away to the hospital' ... I said... We got out of the car, to be met by my aunt in law. I don't remember much, only that I was held back gently at the door ....

'Grandma's still in there', someone whispered to me. I stopped in the doorway .... could I do this? It seemed like minutes, but it was only seconds, and I drew in a breath, stood tall, and stepped over the threshold. I averted my gaze, and looked towards my step-grandad, who came to me and hugged me, distraught with tears. He was 91 years old, frail and now alone.

His pain hit me like a torrent.. my pain was nothing to his, or rather, it was different. It hurt so much to see him hurting, crying out ... 'she's so beautiful, she's so beautiful', he would say, over and over again.

She too had been frail for the last few years, yet still so beautiful. She looked peaceful. She had died in her favorite chair. Again, I knew that I had to be strong; my mum had enough to endure, without having her daughter fall apart on her. She also had to go into 'practical' mode,which delayed her own grieving process, as she organised what needed to be done, the undertakers, who would look after my step-grandad, phone-calls. ...

So, I stayed with my Grandma, with tears flooding down my face. She was so pale and so cold. I sat down on the floor next to her, and held her hand gently, it was so frail... 'Come back Grandma' I called quietly, ... 'come back, come back, ... please come back. Don't go, please grandma. ... We're here now Grandma, you can come back now'.

Grief can be irrational. I didn't want to let go of her hand, so I held on, trying to warm it as much as I could, with the heat of my own hands. I stayed there whilst mum and the others organised everything ... Even though she tried to hide it, to be strong, I could see the pain and the grief in my mum's face, when she walked into the lounge room, with my step-grandad.... as we said our goodbyes. Mum had only just seen Grandma that morning, a morning of 'lively' discussions about their future ..... She had been seeing them twice a week to support them, to find more support .... I think the changes were too much for my Grandma though. She didn't want to leave the home she loved, her familiar environment.

I still sat on the floor next to my grandma.

I don't really remember much of the details of that night, only her cold frail hand, the voices in the distance, talking to my brother who was overseas, on the phone, ... discussing the practicalities, the practicalities that allowed the others to hold back their grief for awhile.

I vaguely remember the undertakers who took her away, the goodbyes - this was the last time we would ever see her in her home, so close to life, yet now gone so far away. Strangely, I still felt that she was there and I kept calling inside, come back grandma, not now, please ... and it hurt to see the pain in everyone's faces.

Everything happened so quickly after that .... the viewing, the funeral, mum's eulogy, which expressed so much about a woman, the multifaceted nature of my Grandma, parts of her I had never known about ... and I began to understand a little more about my family's relationships, my mother's relationship with her mum... and the moment she paused, when her speech faltered for a moment, with an unexpected pang of grief

I loved my Grandma, but I don't know how to grieve. I am living my life 'normally', as if nothing had happened now, but that's because I can't, or won't think about the loss. I have pictures of her around me - she is still here.

But there are moments, when I cannot hold out, that picture inside my head, of her in her favourite chair, of that night, of the funeral, of turning the switch slowly to lower her coffin, covered with red roses, down into the cold ground. Ever so cold.

And then grief would hit me at those times, but only for a moment. I can't seem to express it fully yet, for if I did, I'm not sure if could cope with the flood of emotion, the final acceptance that she's really gone. She is still here with me.

I love you so much Grandma.

Anyway, I didn't expect to write this post. I was just watching a very simple video I made one night, when I was feeling the sadness. I had uploaded it to YouTube. It was an expression in music, of my feelings of loss and sadness. I pressed the 'share' button on the YouTube page, and 'blogger' came up - and the video was embedded.

Hence, I thought I would share it here, and a flood of words came out instead. It helps to share for some reason. Is this part of the grieving process? Trying to acknowledge the loss? Trying to preserve the memory of my grandma's beautiful spirit. 

Grieving is a strange process. There seems to be no 'standard' way of grieving, although psychologists have defined several different 'phases' of the grief process. But I don't think its a linear process, and I don't think its the same for everybody. The emotions one experiences also depends on who passed away, how close they were, and the nature of the death. Grandma had lived a long life, she died peacefully, and she died in the home that she loved...  and now she is at peace...

Perhaps if you are reading this, you can relate to some of what I have said and to the music in the simple video. Sadness, loss, change, grieving. The realisations of how short and precious life is. The understanding that we will all go one day, that we will lose others, and that this is a natural part of life, despite how hard it is to accept. To know that 'all' change is natural, and that many changes in life, even if its not death, will involve a grieving process.

It is thus so important to embrace life, the now and to accept this natural process of change, all change, and grieving. To accept that this grieving is different for everyone, and different each time. To be strong, but to also allow yourself the time to grieve in your own way.

I think perhaps, that your body and spirit or soul, knows best, and will protect you. Listen to it. I initially questioned why I had not 'fallen apart', but I question no longer. I am accepting now, that I will grieve over a longer period of time, because my body-spirit cannot handle a full 'onslaught' of grief at the loss.

I still call out for her.. I still feel her with me. Maybe she is, but I also know that I still can't acknowledge that she is truly gone from this life. One day I will, in trying to let it all go, but for now, I will live with her, still by my side and remember her with joy and love ... and try to be strong for my family, my mum.

I will be back, with a happier post soon.
I want to start writing 'stories' about everyday life.

Be kind with yourselves always

Meg

(If the video didn't appear below, here is the direct link, just in case - Left Click Here)

Below is the text which is underneath the video on the YouTube page ...

'Moment of Despair in Music: Loss of a Loved One:

MeganMcCar | July 02, 2010

Tonight, in a moment of 'despair' and sadness at the loss of my Grandma on 13 June 2010, I played some simple melodies to let out my feelings. Grieving is a strange thing; its only just starting to hit me that she's gone.

This is an insight into that 'blackness' of despair, but I also remember her with joy and happy feelings.
 

 it helped playing this music, and it helps to share. I'm still trying to work out how to get a good sound quality for video. Hence, please excuse video quality, any noise feedback and errors in the music. My musical skills will come back eventually!

- I was playing from the 'heart', whatever came out. Its just a quick and simple video, but one I needed to make.

I am making a 'happier' video memory of Grandma soon, from her 90th Birthday in January 2010, along with music by Nat King Cole....