The Gift of Death

Working through the sudden loss of my husband I was hiking up Mt. Erskin on Salt Spring Island when a work friend Mike approached from the opposite direction.

“I heard that Robin passed away, he was a great guy.  If you need anything from Susan or I, please let us know.”  

I was a support worker for Mike’s mother-in-law and I spent a lot of time in their home.  I felt honoured to observe how they managed the day to day struggles of dealing, (lovingly and humorously), with a severely demented and aggressive mother who had Alzheimer’s.  They had something that made the process easier than most but I couldn’t pinpoint what made them different from all the other homes where I worked.

“I don’t know exactly what you are going through, but I don’t know if you know? My first partner died suddenly.” 

“No”, I replied. The tears started to build wishing that no one else ever had to feel this sad.

“She was my first girlfriend, we lived together while going to art school and we were planning our wedding.  She got an infection and was in the hospital.  I thought it was nothing and the next day she was gone. It was a horrible time in my life."  He took a long pause searching for the right words.  "One day you will look back and realize it is a gift."

At the time I had no response. Mike gave me a hug and we both continued our walk in opposite directions.

That moment on the trail up Mt. Erskin has been cemented in my brain and I have been searching ever since to find the gift in my situation. Today, five years later, it finally made sense.

*********

Working in palliative care people would ask, “isn’t it depressing?”

“Not at all!  It reminds me every day that I only live once and to enjoy today”, this is the mantra I repeat every time I am asked this question.

I thought this may be what Mike was referring to as I played with his words grasping to find the gift he was talking about but this didn't feel like it was the full gift. I have been soul searching for the last 5 years working towards creating a life that I want and attempting to see the good in every situation.  Death is something I know that no one will escape but I could not see the gift.

Looking under every stone life threw at me, sometimes in mid-flight, the mystery lingered. Then I received a simple message from an old acquaintance. “Have you heard the good news?”  And right there I was flooded with gratitude for the gift that Robin gave me in his passing.

A tear slowly rolled down my cheek as I lapped up the appreciation that someone felt that I was the right person to share their good news. Strange right?  

Bad news I get a lot.  People know my shoulders are strong enough to be there for them through their struggles.  I am good at listening and giving the occasional hug when needed.  Going through the loss of Robin’s death and working in palliative care I know there is nothing in my power that can fix the situation.  The only thing I can do is be present.  People don’t come to me to change or fix their circumstances but to be present with them as they move through their pain.

But good news? That takes even more to share with someone who has lost as with happiness comes guilt.  No one wants to rub the nose of their joy's in someones face while they are struggling.  The friend on the other end of this message could see that I had shifted from a place of sorrow and was happy with my life and I was the right person to tell her good news.

In the past when people shared their joy's my internal judge would start to whisper in my ear. My judge had perfected judging so this contrasting feeling of being happy for people and rejoicing in their good news is an alien feeling.  In the past I would give my congratulations but there was the voice in my head that would compare my situation to theirs.

Years before my husband Robin died an acquaintance lost his amazing partner to cancer and a few years later he found someone new to join him on his life’s journey.  I congratulated him but my thoughts said, 'Really? Already?  He found someone new? How much did he really love her?'  Then I went home and told Robin.  "If I die I want you to mourn me for at least 5 years, if not your whole life!!  Because I would do that for you!"

Or I would hear someone going on a vacation. 'Again?  They are going on a vacation again?  Where do they get all this money? Why can’t I go on a vacation?  I deserve it just as much as they do!!'

'Look at them in their new car!  I wish I had a new car!  I hate my car!'

'They call themselves a mother?  I gave up my child to adoption because I thought I wasn’t a good enough mother and yet they believe they deserve this honour?'

I judged everyone’s happiness. Their rewards in life were never too little to compare to my life filled with want and scarcity.  Now I rejoice with my friends and family’s triumphs, their joys, the big and small celebrations, the new cars, and all the gifts their life presents to them.  Now I believe the good moments in life are to be enjoyed and shared.  

When a friend goes on vacation I look forward to seeing their photos and living vicariously through each picture.  When they get a new car I get excited about getting my first ride along.  When they put their heart on the line and start a new relationship I cheer them on for the courage I know it takes.

I got to this point in the last 5 years because with every moment, every cent I made I put it towards creating a life that I loved because I know that life is fleeting, it is short and it will end.  I can only create a life that I want.  No one can rescue me from me.  I understand that everyone else is responsible for creating the life they want and I have no control over their happiness.

This gift isn't appreciated by everyone in my life as I am different than I was before.  I don’t sacrifice myself for others happiness so I am not at everyone's disposal.  I don’t take responsibility for their joys and definitely I don’t take credit for it.  I can do this because I don’t judge myself, or compare myself to others.  When I do I know it is a signal to focus on what I am doing.

The people-pleaser in me used to love to make people happy even at my expense.  I no longer hold others happiness on my shoulders I do things for people because it makes me just as happy as it does them.

This new existence is because I am doing what I want in life.  I’m not living to other people’s expectations of what I should do. You think being with Robin for 18 years I would have learned this important life lesson.  He lived life for himself and lived by no one else’s expectations.  He had to die so I could learn to live my own life fully. 

When we were married I worried how he effected everyone around him with his smoking, his drinking, his mess, and his exuberance for life.  I chose not to share time with him with other people as it would stress me  when they would complain to me of his smoking, his drinking, his mess…. I wish I shared him more! I wish I didn’t worry about how he effected people.  I enjoyed Robin as he was but I wish I would not have worried as much about how he bothered other people.    

I recently entered a new relationship with another smoker and drinker and almost right away someone complained about his smoking. I get it, it is a horrible habit but I didn’t take it on.  I said, "If anyone wants to complain, complain to him as I am going to enjoy him despite his deficiencies."  I love eccentric people, the ones that are different from the norm, those ones that live by their own rules.  I always have, they amuse me, I respect them for their carefree lives and for the fact they don’t live their life hand cuffed to the worry of judgement from the masses. 

It took Robin dying for me to be one of these people.

I have learned that saying “no” is actually self-care.  It is me doing what I want and what I need at any given time.  I am proving to myself that I love myself! When I love myself I am my best self for me and for those around me. 

Robin’s death taught me to be me, at no expense.  It taught me to be present within the good and the bad.  It taught me not to sacrifice myself to anyone else’s expectations of who I should be.

Robin’s death was a gift.  Spending the last 18 years of his life with him was the best gift of all!  I am a very fortunate woman.

With this new understanding I think back to Mike and Susan and I can see it now.  They did not worry how people would judge them, they embraced the last moments of living with their mother as they knew it wouldn’t be forever.  They sat with you and talked with you and were present.  Their home felt calm even while living with a preteen who was a typical preteen.  They took life in stride. The gift that comes with losing someone you love is it  teaches you how to really live.

I had a conversation with my cousin Amy before she passed away from cancer a year and a half after Robin.  I said maybe you and Robin are the teachers?  Now I know they most certainly are!!!