I know that I have written on this subject before but it is
still something that, as I get older, is of interest – grief, mourning and the
cause. There is after all only one end to life. But this subject, for some
reason, is studiously avoided. So while I’m not sure how to introduce this I
find that grief has many facets and is very puzzling. We are, after all, mortal
beings. Trying to make sense of death, however, is very hard. We will all, at
some stage of our life, have cause to grieve and mourn.
There was, in my case, the death of my wife Magucha whom I
dearly loved.
Then there is, now, the harsh reality, still not fully absorbed,
that my life will never be the same. Her love, her intelligence, her insight,
her emotional support, her wonderfully infectious laugh, her mischievous quirky
humour – is now all gone.
Then, now for me, there is the settling into a new way of
life that is part acknowledgement of her memory and the way we used to do
things together and part acknowledgement that from now on I’m on my own without
her at my side. This is still a work in progress.
Then there is most difficult part of my day, not so strange
really I suppose, difficulty in actually going to bed. I defer this necessary
function until the last possible moment – 12 mid-night, even 1am. Then I might
read for a few minutes before I “crash”. Once asleep I sleep well. It’s just
getting the “courage” to actually go to bed. Bed is not the same now, you
understand.
Then there are my own questions. But I do believe in
something that is above and beyond us all to which we are “attached” by the
essence that common to all living things - Life itself. Call this God if you
like. And then where did my Life come
from – the same place it will return to? It makes sense to me, that death is a
“transition” from this life to the next – just as a birth transitioned me from
“that place” to this. This is a subject we, all of us, usually avoid, ignore or
change the subject when it is introduced. Why?
Then there is the problem that we humans are unable to
imagine “God”, or conceptualise “God”, so we bring “Him” down to our level and imbue
“Him” with human attributes that we can understand – passion, hate, vengeance, anger,
jealousy and such like. Reduced to this level we now need to propitiate “God”
and get “Him” to agree to our point of view – hence the requirement for
sacrifices (hopefully symbolic). Is this because humans are all supposed to be
born sinful (because of Adam and Eve)? With a sacrifice, it is posited, we can attach
our “sins” to whatever, or whoever is sacrificed, and so be absolved of “sin”
and be “cleansed”.
Surely, surely, any God who can be “altered” by anything men
do or say, or by the sacrifice of an animal or human (even if symbolic) cannot
be a perfect God? God, surely, doesn’t need a reward? God, surely, cannot be
bribed? Why load, even symbolically, some poor animal or human (that God
created in the first place) with the wrongs that we commit?
But personal sacrifice is a different matter. Is this what
grief is – a form of personal sacrifice? That the more we love the more we
grieve?
I believe there is a Spanish proverb that goes something
like this: “Take what you want from Life, says God. Take it, and pay.”
And so it should be – we reap what we sow! The Law of Cause
and Effect applies to all. This is justice and by my book, this is Love – maybe
tough love – but Love none the less.
I like to think that this place, this planet Earth, is but a
school for what comes next. We all need this school, to learn to Love – and to
forgive.
All this, of course, gets me no closer to understanding what
Life is; that “essence” that is present when something is “alive” and is absent
when something that was “alive” is now “dead”.
To me “God” is pure Love and understanding - this is
“His” greatest gift of all, even if it is the most difficult to accept.
This is all rather circular and brings me back to the point
where I started. I still grieve.
We are the Pilgrims, master; we shall go
Always a little
further; it may be
Beyond that last blue mountain barred with snow,
Across that
angry or that glimmering sea,
White on a throne or guarded in a cave
There lives a
prophet who can understand
Why men were born; but surely we are brave,
Who take the
Golden Road to Samarkand.
James
Elroy Flecker