A favourite quote and a way by which to approach life.

Today is the tomorrow that you worried about yesterday.

Thursday 21 April 2011

...Forever and ever, Amen.

It was Nn's funeral on Monday. It was in Dundee. I went north on the train, staying in Edinburgh, and doing a day-trip to Dundee. I saw seals in the Tay as the train went over the bridge into Dundee station. Seeing them made me smile in the middle of all my terrible sadness, and in some odd way it seemed apt that I should see these wonderful, wild animals enjoying the sea whilst on my way to Nn's funeral, because Nn loved the sea, was a very keen surfer, and could be somewhat wild too. My older step-brother, Nl, took Nn's surf board to the funeral and placed it at the front of the chapel before the service. He talked about Nn and his love of surfing in the eulogy. The last time Nn used his surf board was with Nl a very short time ago and apparently Nn had been full of life...

...Nn's guitar was placed at the front too, along with a bottle of vodka and his Newcastle United shirt - all things that meant a lot to him and made a mark on his identity. Nn played himself out of the world - a recording of him playing his favourite song of his own composition was played over the speakers as his coffin went down into the whatever-it's-called-at-the-crematorium-where-the-coffins-go-at-the-end-of-the-service. He chose when to exit the world, so it makes sense to me that he played himself out when he left the world completely ... except that he can't take my memories of him away, or the Nn-shaped hole that he's left behind.

When on the train from Edinburgh to Dundee I suddenly felt like I didn't want to do what I was doing. I didn't want to be on the train to Nn's funeral and I didn't want to go. Except that I did want to go and I wouldn't have missed it unless there was no way I could get there or I was too ill. Really, what I didn't want was for Nn to be dead and for me to be going to his funeral, and I knew that going there would make it all too real and undeniable. It did. It is. It is all too real. But the funeral also made Nn's suicide more unbelievable. It has been shocking. I don't mean that in a 'how dare this happen' kind of way, but rather that I am shocked/stunned/surprised. Everyone was. My older step-sister, A, said as much in her talk during the funeral service - that absolutely nobody had expected this. You know, he'd been at work in the morning. He was due back at work later in the day. Instead he booked into an hotel room...

Some have said to me that I must surely be angry with Nn for killing himself. I'm not. I don't think I ever could be. Why would I be angry with someone, particularly a family member, for being so desperately unhappy? Yes, I am angry that Nn is dead, but that is far from being the same thing as being angry with Nn. He obviously couldn't fathom any other way out of his despair, and he made a decision not to suffer any more. I respect Nn. I respect his decision. He did what he had to do for himself, and I accept that, even if it hurts like hell that he's dead.

Nn is dead.

I still find that difficult to see on the page/screen. It's one of those things that makes it both too real and yet more unbelievable.

I don't feel like I'm being very coherent today. Maybe it's because I'm still trying to make sense of it all myself, and that I'm trying to make sense of my emotions that are all over the place. Right at this moment I feel a little disconnected from my emotions, like it's the safest place to be emotionally or I'll become overwhelmed and dissolve into tears again, which is what I do at regular periods throughout the day. Other times I remember Nn and I smile, or feel the remembered frustration that siblings can induce when you're young. A lot of the time I feel terrible, terrible sadness, and almost all of the time something is reminding me of Nn.

You know, it was my birthday on Tuesday. It felt almost inappropriate to have a birthday this year. I got home from Scotland around lunchtime and a little later on I met W in town. We went for a quick drink in the sunshine before my OU tutorial. I was exhausted and didn't really have it in me to concentrate very well through the tutorial, but I did the best I could, and then W, L (from my tutor group) and I went for another drink. I had several, partly for birthday celebration and partly for inappropriate mind-numbing. Nn would have approved.


I want him back.

7 comments:

Dawn said...

I've sat here trying to think of the 'right' thing to say, but it's escaping me.....
I'll just say that I'm thinking of you
Take care of yourself, Becky
Dawn xx

BeckyG said...

Thank you, Dawn. I don't think there is a right thing or a wrong thing to say. Just saying that you've read my post, you're there, and you're thinking of me is enough, and so, so much better than silence in fear of saying the wrong thing. Thank you.

Becky

Kate said...

I've read it too, I'm here and I'm thinking of you, Becky. Not silent - just wordless.

Tequila Sepulveda said...

I think about you, too, Becky. And like your other friends, I find words escaping me. But breathe well, honey, and cling to those warm, loving memories.

Hugs,
Tequila

BeckyG said...

Kate and Tequila, thank you both so much. Words are difficult when these things happen. They'd difficult for everyone - those in the midst of it, and those on the outside looking in. Being caught up in the agony of it without words can be so very lonely, but that loneliness dissolves when somebody reaches out with even a little utterance of 'I'm here,' or 'I hear you,' or 'I don't know what to say.' Thank you for that gentle touch, and for reminding me that I'm not alone even though I sometimes feel it.

Raven/Missy said...

I've been trying to find something to say since your first post about Nn and haven't figured it out yet. This is one of those times where words just don't seem to be enough. I am so very sorry for your loss. Please know that I am thinking of you and your family.

**HUGS**
Missy

BeckyG said...

Missy, thank you so much for your comment and kind words. Just to have you say that you've read and are thinking about me is lovely and so supportive. I know there isn't anything anyone can say to make things better or bring Nn back, but having the support of others is crucial in getting through. Thank you.