what we do in the face of helplessness
My grandpa passed away yesterday afternoon. This is something I wrote yesterday as I was waiting for news on how he is doing.
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Right now it's not hitting me. I'm in Houston, life in Houston is exactly the same as it was before this happened, and denial comes very easily. The funny thing about it is that you can be in denial while still talking about it, thinking about it, etc etc. Logically and factually, I know that my grandpa is dying. But it's not real yet. There are moments where it is real and where I get pretty emotional. And I know those moments are coming later, when it really hits home. It hasn't fully hit home yet, and maybe that helps me right now.
One reason that it's easy to not feel the loss, is because family rallies together in times of tragedy. I've spent much of the past week on the phone, or corresponding by email, with my brothers, my extended family, even my mom and dad - and for those of you who know my situation, this is unusual. My parents and I don't talk, so it's very unusual to have my phone ring and to see them on the caller ID. But somehow the fact that both my mom and I are in a place where we are thinking about how much we love the same person and how worried we are about him, makes it so that we put our differences aside and talk again. If the enemy of my enemy is my friend, then is maybe the loved one of my loved one, also my loved one?
And with all that coming together though, and all that love and support, it's easy to not feel a feeling of loss. It doesn't feel like loss, if anything it feels like a gain, especially to someone in my position who has felt rejected and ostracized from my family for a long time. But I know this is temporary, because we will all come together to be there for my grandpa as he fights his final battle, and if the outcome is what is expected, then we will all come together to be there for his funeral, and to remember him together and share our memories of him together and comfort each other as we go through it together. However, after that, we will all go home. There won't be anything left to say, and we will go back to life as usual, just without him. I think that's when I will feel the loss, and I think that is when it will start feeling very hard.
It's an interesting thing though, all this love and concern and worry and prayer. It feels like it ought to have more power to affect the outcome than it does. I'll make an analogy. This week I've been putting on a Harry Potter Movie Marathon. And even with the bad news, I've decided to continue forward with the marathon. The escapism helps me, to put it aside and just watch something fun for a few hours. And it's good to stay active and to keep life feeling normal.
But the analogy which came to mind, and I know it's cheesy. But in one of the movies, pretty sure it was the fourth movie (escape from azkaban or something?) there are these dark ghostlike characters whose name I have forgotten, predator-type spirit-ghost things which attack and hunt those who go in forbidden places. They look like a ghost version of the Grim Reaper. In the movie, Harry Potter is trying to learn how to defend against them, and what he is taught is to think of a memory that is powerfully positive, and that has a lot of deep meaning, and if he can hold onto this memory in his mind as he waves his wand at them, that he can push them away. He holds onto a memory of his parents who he lost as a very young baby, and it's a memory associated with such powerful love that the force of this love becomes magic and keeps the spirits from harming him and those he protects.
We kind of think that it should work that way, right? There's a moral to the story which resonates - love conquers all, love is more powerful than fear or death, and that we can protect and save our loved ones through the power of our own love. And when we are faced with a life-threatening illness, we invoke it. The universal expression of support, love, and care, is "I'll pray for you". We feel that if our love is strong enough, that our prayers should be able to save our loved ones.
I guess that's the thing which is hard for me to deal with here. My grandpa is very, very loved. He has so much family around him right now, and so many people who care so much about what happens. And it feels like that ought to be powerful, and like it ought to count for something. And, the sense of urgency that I think all of us feel, that it's so important to express all of that love, and to be there, and to make it count...I think it reflects some sort of irrational belief we have deep down that if we can just love him hard enough, he won't die. But it's not reality, and it leaves us wondering what to do with how much he mattered to us, how to make that count. Where do you channel all that love and how do you make it count, if you are powerless to save him?
So I guess we funnel that into first making sure that he knows how loved he is at the end of his life, and also expressing all that love and support to his wife my grandma. And then we focus on remembering him, and not letting his memory die, and sharing those memories with each other, and I guess celebrating how much good he created in his life and how much it meant to so many people. But in the end, it really doesn't change the outcome, the end comes all the same, no matter how many people are there by his side either literally or in spirit. No matter how wonderful your life was, and no matter how much you mean to how many people, you still die, you still have to leave.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Right now it's not hitting me. I'm in Houston, life in Houston is exactly the same as it was before this happened, and denial comes very easily. The funny thing about it is that you can be in denial while still talking about it, thinking about it, etc etc. Logically and factually, I know that my grandpa is dying. But it's not real yet. There are moments where it is real and where I get pretty emotional. And I know those moments are coming later, when it really hits home. It hasn't fully hit home yet, and maybe that helps me right now.
One reason that it's easy to not feel the loss, is because family rallies together in times of tragedy. I've spent much of the past week on the phone, or corresponding by email, with my brothers, my extended family, even my mom and dad - and for those of you who know my situation, this is unusual. My parents and I don't talk, so it's very unusual to have my phone ring and to see them on the caller ID. But somehow the fact that both my mom and I are in a place where we are thinking about how much we love the same person and how worried we are about him, makes it so that we put our differences aside and talk again. If the enemy of my enemy is my friend, then is maybe the loved one of my loved one, also my loved one?
And with all that coming together though, and all that love and support, it's easy to not feel a feeling of loss. It doesn't feel like loss, if anything it feels like a gain, especially to someone in my position who has felt rejected and ostracized from my family for a long time. But I know this is temporary, because we will all come together to be there for my grandpa as he fights his final battle, and if the outcome is what is expected, then we will all come together to be there for his funeral, and to remember him together and share our memories of him together and comfort each other as we go through it together. However, after that, we will all go home. There won't be anything left to say, and we will go back to life as usual, just without him. I think that's when I will feel the loss, and I think that is when it will start feeling very hard.
It's an interesting thing though, all this love and concern and worry and prayer. It feels like it ought to have more power to affect the outcome than it does. I'll make an analogy. This week I've been putting on a Harry Potter Movie Marathon. And even with the bad news, I've decided to continue forward with the marathon. The escapism helps me, to put it aside and just watch something fun for a few hours. And it's good to stay active and to keep life feeling normal.
But the analogy which came to mind, and I know it's cheesy. But in one of the movies, pretty sure it was the fourth movie (escape from azkaban or something?) there are these dark ghostlike characters whose name I have forgotten, predator-type spirit-ghost things which attack and hunt those who go in forbidden places. They look like a ghost version of the Grim Reaper. In the movie, Harry Potter is trying to learn how to defend against them, and what he is taught is to think of a memory that is powerfully positive, and that has a lot of deep meaning, and if he can hold onto this memory in his mind as he waves his wand at them, that he can push them away. He holds onto a memory of his parents who he lost as a very young baby, and it's a memory associated with such powerful love that the force of this love becomes magic and keeps the spirits from harming him and those he protects.
We kind of think that it should work that way, right? There's a moral to the story which resonates - love conquers all, love is more powerful than fear or death, and that we can protect and save our loved ones through the power of our own love. And when we are faced with a life-threatening illness, we invoke it. The universal expression of support, love, and care, is "I'll pray for you". We feel that if our love is strong enough, that our prayers should be able to save our loved ones.
I guess that's the thing which is hard for me to deal with here. My grandpa is very, very loved. He has so much family around him right now, and so many people who care so much about what happens. And it feels like that ought to be powerful, and like it ought to count for something. And, the sense of urgency that I think all of us feel, that it's so important to express all of that love, and to be there, and to make it count...I think it reflects some sort of irrational belief we have deep down that if we can just love him hard enough, he won't die. But it's not reality, and it leaves us wondering what to do with how much he mattered to us, how to make that count. Where do you channel all that love and how do you make it count, if you are powerless to save him?
So I guess we funnel that into first making sure that he knows how loved he is at the end of his life, and also expressing all that love and support to his wife my grandma. And then we focus on remembering him, and not letting his memory die, and sharing those memories with each other, and I guess celebrating how much good he created in his life and how much it meant to so many people. But in the end, it really doesn't change the outcome, the end comes all the same, no matter how many people are there by his side either literally or in spirit. No matter how wonderful your life was, and no matter how much you mean to how many people, you still die, you still have to leave.