Tuesday, February 5, 2013

When you are a little child.

P has a sweetly confused idea about the circle of life that she talks to me about often.  She tells me stories about the future, where she is the grown up mummy, and I am the little child.  She says things like "Mummy, when you are a little girl and I am the grown up, I will wear a dress and go to work and look after you".

I find the idea so appealing.

I wish it were true.  The truth is much sadder.

I don't know about you but I've really only just realised fully that I won't live forever.  Neither will P.  Or B.  Or M.  Maybe I will die tomorrow.  Maybe Baby B will.

I wonder why it is this way?  Why is life so full of loss and grief?  The longer you live the more you lose.  I find it unbearable to contemplate sometimes, the inevitable march towards death.

I've spent so much time thinking about things I'll do in the future, how life will be, holidays, travel, great jobs, all waiting for me out there somewhere.

But what if I die tomorrow?

Bille Brown, a famous theatre actor from round these parts, died in January.  Geoffrey Rush spoke about him at a memorial yesterday, and read out some of Bille's words.


"I THOUGHT I had more to do, more to give, but I know now it's time to leave."

I had lunch with my stepsister E the other day, and we spoke about her dad.

While he was dying last year, I felt the happiness in my life more acutely.  It sharpened my senses and concentrated my thought on the present.

But E and I both agreed that now, 6 months after, the knowledge of death has sucked some of the joy out of life.

I wish I could be a little girl again, and that P could be the Mummy and look after me, just like she hopes will happen.



10 comments:

  1. I had a lot of trauma and tragedy and death in my life when I was quite young. That's probably why I take nothing for granted and try to enjoy life as much as I can. Be grateful for what we have at this moment, I say. Try not to dwell on potential disasters to come and make the most of the present and those we love.

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    1. You are very right. Sorry about this gloomy post, maybe I'll delete it.

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    2. Don't be daft! I like your honesty. I think everybody has those kind of 3am gloom filled thoughts, perfectly normal.We'd be robots if we didn't occasionally ponder our own mortality.

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  2. I know what you mean Sarah! My Dad passed away suddenly when he was 48. I was 24 and pregnant with my first child. I remember the morning like any other normal morning. Him and my Mum were off to the city to go out for lunch, shopping, and to have a flutter at the casino. He had a massive heart attack in the car on the way and died instantly. But I always remember my Mum saying that she had no regrets. She said although they should have had a lifetime together, she had lived a lifetime with him because it was all quality time. Now I've hit the big 4-0, it often hits me all over again. Just how much we take for granted. Sorry for the morbid post! But I get it x

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    1. Oh Simone that's very sad. I still have my dad but D's death has made me think about it all too much. My post is hideously morbid, you shouldn't apologize! Having kids makes you more aware of the passing of time too like never before!

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  3. My mother died ten years ago and of course I think of her everyday.

    As my father ages he is now 81 and lives by himself believe me sometimes I feel like the mother.

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    1. Yes actually she is right isn't she? I'm sorry about your mum, I know my mum thinks of my nana all the time too. I'll write a perkier post asap as I am depressing myself x

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  4. Poignant post - and don't you dare delete it! You know how you talked about these thoughts when you commented on the post I did quoting Rumi? The day after I wrote that post my sil - who was only 41 and had two children under 10 - died suddenly. It all fell into sharper relief. Both my parents died several years ago. Death and the realisation of it changes everything.

    When I was 16, a friend of mine, also called Alison, was hit by a drunk driver and killed. That was the first time I started to realise how short and brutal life can be. At 44, I often think of her still and think about the life that was stolen from her.

    Anyway, sorry for going all Eeyore on you, but yes, I agree. And oh yes how lovely it would be if we could take turns being mummy and daughter/son a few times over at least :)
    xo

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    1. I am all Eeyore, all the time haha! a dear friend of mine died suddenly when we were 16 too, she had a brain aneurysm. I think about her lots, but more now I'm a mother of course. I'm sorry I didn't stay in touch with her parents, I think it would help them to still be in touch but it never occurred to me. Selfish.

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    2. I'm so sorry about your sil. God, the poor kiddies.

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