GOM in Training: Say it today

On Wednesday, we learnt the terrible news that the father of a friend of ours had died unexpectedly. He and his family had gathered in the UK to celebrate his 75^th birthday. Instead of their planned celebrations, they are mourning his loss.

His passing speaks of the fragility of the human condition. We are time-limited; we don’t know how long we have. Ill health can point to the end of our days, as it did for my mother and sister, who both developed cancer at an early age; we could see them diminish before us and we knew that they had little time left.

However, when sudden death presents itself, as it did with my father, who died when I was 13, the event is, arguably, more seismic. There is no time to prepare, acceptance is harder and, whilst the sense of loss is the same, the feeling of being cheated is far greater.

Sudden deaths happen and, by default, we lack preparedness. When it occurs, there is little that we can do. The shock is often acute, even now, 36 years on from the day my father died, I have the clearest of memories of my mother’s words as she sat on the tailgate of an ambulance, hugging me. “He’s gone,” she said.
An hour before, I’d been watching him play football.

When someone dies suddenly, we may miss the opportunity to share, to love, to reconcile; the chance to say whatever it is that we need to say to each other. That can lead to feelings of guilt that may make the loss a more difficult and painful experience. When that happens, we must hope that, in time, the memory of our loved one will bring a smile to our face rather than tears to our eyes.

I’m blessed, to have people around me who I love. Sometimes, though, that wonderful truth is neglected. So, if you’ll forgive me, I’ll end this week’s passage here. I’m not planning to leave this life anytime soon, but I’m going to make a small, simple preparation, just in case. I urge you to pop down your phone and do the same.

I’m off to tell my family I love them. I know they know it, but, sometimes, it’s best to hear it from me.

Postscript:

When my mother died in 2004, I wrote a memoir to help me with my grief. It's available in paperback or on Kindle by following the links.