No Birthday Blues

Tis an important week this week.  For this coming Friday is a special day. A day forever etched in my mind.

It’s Tony’s birthday.  

It is really difficult to comprehend that had he not been targeted by a ghastly brain tumour then he would have been turning 80 on Friday. 

I am sure most of my friends and family will look at that number and never comprehend that Tony could ever had hit that figure, even if he was still alive – for he was a Peter Pan of our world.  He, his heart and his soul never aged.

The tumour certainly had him visibly and physically age in his last years, but even then when we were with him he still remained a Peter Pan to us all.

At this very moment I am sitting in an apartment here in Honolulu and on the wall next to me is a photograph of Tony taken only weeks before he departed our living world.  He is sitting in a wheelchair, being pushed by his mate Jerry, with me walking beside them. He was totally stricken by the tumour at this stage, with only weeks to live, but he sits in the chair wearing one of his many Ironman shirts and a cap on his head.  The manner in which he is sitting in that chair and the silly grin on his face shows the fact that whilst the tumour was aggressively destroying his brain and taking his life it still wasn’t able to take his heart and his soul – he was still our Peter Pan.

It is well past 5 years since he left us.

I do so miss that man.  He meant so much to me.  He still does.  That will never change.

And the grief will never go.  

Only three months ago I was privileged to listen to a very special man, a very special friend, give a speech on grief – and the legacy of grief.  After he gave the most moving and enlightening speech I wanted very much to ask him if I could have a written copy of what he had presented.  I had done this on occasion before and he had been most complimented that I thought so much of his words and was always very happy to send me a copy.

However on this occasion I held back asking him for a copy of this particular speech, for his speech was relating to the loss of his 16 year old daughter, in tragic circumstances, some 10 years ago.  Such a tragic loss of a beautiful life of one of his children; I felt it inappropriate this time to ask for a draft of his words.  But I did email him and thanked him for presenting what I considered the best explanation of what grief is to the audience we had that day.

He had known I would find the speech personal, so much so that he came to me prior to his delivery to let me know what he would be speaking about but that he hoped I understood why he was delivering it.  

After he finished his presentation he came and hugged me, for as he said, “We have joined a special club that neither of us wanted to join.” 

His speech was about how he and his wife felt, thought and accepted the grief they had thrown at them. That grief was not a negative emotion. And how the words so many who care for you use, the words “you must move on” are so irrelevant.  

He hit the nail on the head.   

We don’t ‘move on’ from grief.  Grief does not go away, it will always be there, no matter what is happening now or in the future.  For while grief is a strong emotion it is one that can be fulfilling and rewarding, for it is a reminder of what was and how lucky we were.

He hit the nail on the head, grief is to be embraced and not ‘moved on’ and buried behind our living souls.  And we should not feel we have to hold back the tears; tears that we still shed should be looked upon as good tears, special tears, positive tears of reflection, of joy and the happiness that we had.  

My life has taken some interesting paths since Tony passed away in 2013, none more so than the paths over the past two years.  

I sold the family home, the house that Tony and I shared so much joy, happiness and love in: but the house had become a mausoleum to Tony for every room, every wall, every window, every door had Tony’s hand print, Tony's memory on them.  While I still remained in the house it would forever have me living in a structure of grief.  I needed to ‘move on’.  But that’s in the physical, not in the soul, for the soul is more solid than the physical.  Never ask the soul to move on.

The move, the choices I have made in resetting my life has created some amazing chances, opportunities, adventures and luck.   

I am the happiest now than I have been in well over ten years for it was ten and a half years ago that Tony was diagnosed with the malignant tumour.  

Everything I have done since Tony’s move to reside in the heavens I have felt he would have nodded and said ‘good decision darling’.  I don’t make them without wondering what his thoughts would have been.  With each one I know he would have smiled his Peter Pan smile  …  I am sure he is smiling at me now.

So my life is rather different now.  I am me, independent me.  I am grasping every moment of every day, his passing taught me that.  

My life is not only different it is wonderfully chaotic.   

The happiness is deep due to the people in it, people that I feel total privilege to be able to share time with - family, wonderful loyal friends and so many newly treasured ones that I have met since my move to another town.  I have been lucky.  I have been lucky that with grief has come this happiness and final contentment, that I am blessed with Tony always remaining in my life and with others who are giving me the happiness that Tony would always wish me to have.

Happy birthday Tony.

 

RIP:  Andy Bray

Another special man - now sharing speeches with Tony.