This is long overdue. Starting my own blogsite, that is. I was all geared up to begin on a Monday, as most things do. I, too, had every intention of seeding my blog, especially in its foetal phase, with nothing but humour and a cheek-plumping tongue - my eternal saving grace.
But, a tragic and frightening event occurred the weekend prior (now three weeks ago), which has flung me into philosophy and humourless reflection. This also has its place for us feeling beings - exploring the mind gives the heart a break.
On a Saturday morning whilst ensconced in Never-Never Land, I received a call with news I never expected. Not even in my worst nightmares. My beautiful friend found her husband of 11 months in their garage, dead. He had hung himself. Grooming and ablutions evaded me... I went through to her immediately and stayed with her as long as I could.
Without divulging too much, for it remains a very personal tragedy, this couple was my fairytale. My friend had, after 41 years of virtual solitude, finally found the 'man of her dreams'. They fell madly in love, and within months had tied the knot. She inherited two children from his previous marriage, whom she embraced as though they were her own. Furthermore, after years of passionately snubbing her nose at the thought of conceiving, she even became open to the idea of falling pregnant. And they almost did. She brought out the best in him, and he brought out parts of her that I don't even think she knew existed. An independent and successful career woman, she gave up working for a while to focus on being a wife, home-maker and good step-mother. I could go on...but it is futile now.
Observing her grief from a close distance has only exacerbated my helplessness. I have watched her swing, like a frantic pendulum, from anger, to hurt, to betrayal, to confusion, to denial, to frustration, to guilt...the ugly, unfounded guilt that suicide leaves behind. I can't begin to imagine exactly what she is going through and there is nothing I can say or do to make it better or easier. All I could and can do is be a gentle, loving presence. I have learnt from this.
Which brings me to the title of this post:
This singular event, such a permanent mistake, has to be the starkest lesson of acceptance that I have ever met because:
1. We cannot begin to understand it, and
2. We can do nothing to change or fix it.
It just is. It is done.
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