Always

A bold statement I know. But I will always remember Christmas Day 2015. Magucha was in hospital and, obviously, very, very ill. As you can see from the photo taken on that day, the valiant smile, the hollow eyes, and the “look” needed no words. They said it all.

I don’t think I am being melodramatic when I say that I think she knew the end was not far away. That the “uninvited visitor” would soon arrive to accompany her on her final journey to that “undiscovered country”. She always showed great courage and was never afraid of anything, least of all death.

Even though all this happened four years ago being with her in hospital every day until she died is something I will never forget and is a time I will always treasure. It was a very special time for me. 

Again I don’t think I will be revealing anything that others would not have done in similar circumstances when I say that I used to get to the Hospital at about 10.00 every morning and, when she was in the “high care” ward (she was in a single bed room), not in Intensive Care, one of the first things she wanted me to do was to help her shower – even though the nurses were there to do just that. That was my job, you see! She was very weak and needed assistance to get out of bed and into the shower where she would sit in the plastic chair provided while I helped her wash (later, because she became so weak, it was only a “bed wash”). And I always brought in a clean nightie for her to change into. Sometimes she also wanted me to feed her, which I found very touching. 

I loved her you see. What else could I do? 

Then sometimes, if she was in the mood, I would read to her – one of her favourite stories was “My family and other animals”, by Gerald Durrell. But that never lasted very long – she used to get very tired and fall into a quiet sleep. 

As some would know I am always moved by poetry – by the poet’s choice of words, their cadence and rhyming. In my mind I’ve always associated this poem with Magucha because of the difficulty I had in convincing her to leave Portugal and marry me. Our cultures were quite different and I spoke no Portuguese (apart from some swear words she taught me!) and while she was more or less fluent in English her use of words was unique (some she made up to “fit” what she wanted to say) and her odd pronunciation (which I’m sure was at times quite deliberate) was very much what became widely known as “Magucha speak”! Once married we both had a deal of adjusting to do but after a while things evened out and in the end I think we learned to work well together.

This is for her.

The Strange Music 

“Other loves may sink and settle, other loves may

loose and slack,

But I wander like a minstrel with a harp upon

 his back,

Though the harp be on my bosom, though I finger

and I fret,

Still, my hope is all before me: for I cannot play it

yet.

In your strings is hid a music that no hand hath e’er

let fall,

In your soul is sealed a pleasure that you have not

known at all;

Pleasure subtle as your spirit, strange and slender as 

your frame,

Fiercer than the pain that folds you, softer than 

your sorrow’s name.

Not as mine, my soul’s anointed, not as mine the

rude and the light

Easy mirth of many faces, swaggering pride of song

and fight; 

Something stranger, something sweeter, something

waiting you afar,

Secret as your stricken senses, magic as your sorrows

are.

But on this, God’s harp supernal, stretched but to

be stricken once,

Hoary time is a beginner, Life a bungler, Death a 

dunce. 

But I will not fear to match them – no, by God, I

will not fear,

I will learn you, I will play you and the stars stand

still to hear.”

                                                                        G. K. Chesterton

That last verse has special meaning for me:-

“But on this, God’s harp supernal, stretched but to

be stricken once,

Hoary time is a beginner, Life a bungler, Death a 

dunce. 

But I will not fear to match them – no, by God, I

will not fear,

I will learn you, I will play you and the stars stand

still to hear.”

I just hope the stars heard.

Life wasn't made to be easy!

Life seems to ebb and flow like the tides but without their regularity. There is happiness; there is sadness; neither of which can be predicted. They happen. Or not. But life continues and all we can do is to stumble along and try to arrive at some point of stability, of normalcy, which is neither good nor bad. Just normal.

So, while many, many millions of people, since humans first walked the earth, have made this journey of Life, it was new to me. I have had to make my own way. Travel my own road. It is a lonely road for it is impossible to travel the identical road with a companion. We may have someone close whom we love – like with Magucha and I, and we were very close – but even then she could not know everything I thought or why I did what I did. In that regard I walked alone and I still walk alone. As did she.

I am an individual. We are not clones. Also we can never “possess” someone in the accepted sense. I believe this is why we grieve for those who have “gone away”, have "gone on ahead" and are "out of sight" - because we could never possess them. We, do however, miss them, grievously miss them. 

But we still all need companionship. After all we are social animals and group together. This, to me, gives rise to a paradox - that we are at the same time, both social beings and yet distinct individuals. We each have our own distinct thumbprint, our own distinct iris pattern in our eyes, our own ear shape and many other individually distinct characteristics.

We do, however, all need someone to talk to, to be a friend. This is why I search, why I enquire – and I always will. 

That death may inspire a deep-seated dread of “extinction,” is I believe quite common, and yet it may be that death is another aspect of Life; an aspect that we may not understand, but which may lead to a completion of our existence into the fullness of being human. We were born – we die. We are human.

In my case, I grieve because I remember that today, 12^th December, in 2015, which was a Saturday that year, was the day that Magucha’s pancreatitis first took hold. I took her to hospital, because of the pain she was suffering, but she never came back. Five weeks later she was dead – on 21^st January 2016.

Many memories.