When someone dies any language seems to fall short of the truth behind the words we choose. Sorry doesn’t seem to cut it, but anymore is just a variation on the same theme. Death is the cruelest inevitability, and despite its absolute certainty the reality of death is never easy to cope with or express sympathy for.
Last week my brothers wife, Kate, suffered a brain hemorrhage and died suddenly and unexpectedly. The couple had been married for little over two years. I was in Colorado when it happened.
When Pete emailed me and told me he had “some bad news” I assumed he was about to tell me that our grandmother had passed away. She’s an old lady suffering from emphysema, so as cruel as it might seem, I felt that she was most likely going to be the subject of the bad news he wanted to speak to me about. But then I picked up another email, written by Pete a few hours later in which he told me that Kate had died suddenly and would I please call him.
I scrabbled for my phone just as it began to ring. “Pete?” I answered. “No, it’s Will. Has your brother managed to reach you yet?” Confused and in a state of shock I said that he hadn’t and that I needed to call him. I correctly assumed that Pete had contacted my friend Will to find out how to get hold of me in the States. Moments later the phone rang again and this time it was my brother.
Yesterday was her memorial service. We had all hoped the weather would be kind on the day and give us some October sun, but in the end it was overcast and rainy. At one point in the service a KT Tunstall track called ‘Other side of the world’ was played. As it played I looked around the ancient church and at the large and colorful stained glass windows. For a moment I felt like this was an episode in some TV drama where life moves at TV speed and where characters come and go as quickly as Kate has. The words of the song echoed around the ancient church. “Can you help me? Can you let me go? And can you still love me, When you can’t see me anymore.” And as Pete wept I wished this wasn’t happening.
I didn’t know Kate as well as I thought I would. I live a long way from my family so I don’t often get a chance to see them. I figured I’d have more time to get to know her. She was my sister-in-law, so that meant I would have the rest of my life to learn who she was, there was no rush. I thought Kate would be there to grow old and wrinkled along side my brother and the rest of us until the days when we all stood in the company of death.
She’ll be forever beautiful now, locked in the image of the 38 year old woman she had become.
And now my attention is turned to my brother. I have no idea how he must be feeling nor any experience that will help me to be the support I want to be for him at this time. Instead all I have is the the fact that tonight and in these darkest of days for him, we are and will forever be… brothers. I’m hoping that will be enough.
—
Don’t wait written by my brother in Kate’s memory.
Wrote the following comment on Oct 7, 2006 at 2:13 am
Pete’s word made me cry.
There’s nothing like death to wake you from apathy, as you say, we all think we have forever. Its a cliche I know but we should all live each day like its our last, not waste a single moment.
Wrote the following comment on Oct 7, 2006 at 5:21 am
Mere presence, even without words, speaks volumes of support! I read your past post about your sister-in-law’s recent death and my heart ached. Trust your sensitive heart. It will lead you to the support you wish to give. My thoughts and prayers go out to you and your brother.
Wrote the following comment on Oct 7, 2006 at 5:50 am
So much left undone, unsaid, yes…and so hard that their time together to be so suddenly over. I’m sorry for Pete, Simon. It’s good that you can be with him.
Wrote the following comment on Oct 7, 2006 at 7:52 am
You are with him and I know that means an enormous amount. Just listening and talking about her with him will probably help a lot. It might also make him cry or make you cry or make him seem to grieve more but he needs to do that, I think. It is so painful to grieve but so necessary – and it honors Kate’s memory.
Wrote the following comment on Oct 7, 2006 at 2:09 pm
how cruel it is to be cutoff earlier than expected. your brother’s poem is strong and insightful.
Wrote the following comment on Oct 7, 2006 at 3:52 pm
I’m very sorry to hear that your brother lost his wife. I’m sorry that you all have to go through such a tragedy.
Wrote the following comment on Oct 7, 2006 at 6:13 pm
So very sorry to hear this. I can kinda relate my father is terminal….yet I dont know if sudden is worse than watching someone succomb. Sometimes your presence is more comforting than words you cannot find to say. Be well simon :)
Wrote the following comment on Oct 8, 2006 at 12:03 am
I was very touched by your brother’s words. Kate is beautiful, and so is love.
Wrote the following comment on Oct 8, 2006 at 4:00 am
Hi Simon.
Kate is now remembered on other other side of the world. Thankyou for sharing the gift of her life with us.
Last Wednesday October 5th, our community also lost a beautiful 38 year old woman – a wife and mother and my friend – to cancer. We celebrate her life tomorrow, Monday 9th October.
Death is either a wall or a doorway. It’s mysterious and inevitable. It’s pointless and yet possibly the greatest hope of eternity we have.
To honour those we knew in life…let’s live with all the optimism and joy we can wring out of this transient timeline and let’s never let death have the last word.
No condolences! Just grateful thanks that these two women lived and loved those we love.
Wrote the following comment on Oct 8, 2006 at 6:37 am
Sorry to hear about the lost of your brother’s wife. I hope he’ll feel better soon ..
Wrote the following comment on Oct 8, 2006 at 6:57 am
I’m sorry for your loss. It is truly a tragedy. So young. Being his brother will be eough for him, as he really needs his familt now.
Wrote the following comment on Oct 8, 2006 at 2:04 pm
My thoughts are with you and your family, Simon.