Life goes on

As you’ll know from previous entries, S’s father died last week. I don’t want to write too much about that because it’s not my place to do so - it’s private and I don’t want to intrude. But there is something about what happened which is stuck in my brain and I’m hoping that, by expressing it, I might shift it a little.

After he died - and by that I mean literally right afterwards, in the first hour afterwards - I was struck by two things. Firstly by how much waiting around there was: things needed to be organised, paperwork squared away, there was a process to be followed, much of which didn’t directly involve the family, requiring them to stand around and wait, although it was never very clear what they were waiting for. 

The second thing that struck me is so banal as to be almost beneath comment and that’s the fact that, even in that strange hiatus while we waited, life just... went on. The TV carried on playing and we half-heartedly watched it. Doctors and nurses bustled up and down the corridor. The family made small-talk, occasionally able to manage a chuckle at some joke or memory; we stood around, shuffled from foot to foot, looked at notices on the notice-board and everything just carried on as normal.

Many years ago, when J and I were together, I was there when her grandmother died: I watched it happen and I remember being struck by the same thing. Life, for those remaining, just carries on. I don’t mean just on the macro level - the world keeps turning, the sun comes up the next day, all that - I mean for individuals, too.  After someone has died, even though the world has stopped for them, even though the world may be incomprehensibly different for you, life still goes on. You carry on breathing; your heart keeps beating; you have to occupy your time.  And that was the thing that struck me, really.  I mean, what are you supposed to do afterwards? I felt like everything else should stop, too.

I’ve been lucky, so far: I haven’t lost anyone close to me for a very long time. I’m overdue and it terrifies me.  Each New Year’s Day, a small voice in my head asks “is this the year it happens?” It scares me and I think the thing that scares me most is that, after it happens, life goes on.