A Part of Life is Apart From Death, For Some

What do you mean? I can hear myself being asked as I write this. Death is a part of life; it is the socially accepted standardized rationale of a civilized westerner. Wisdom is seen within an answer such as the aforementioned, it seems logical, I suppose. While it's true that death is a part of life, unfortunately; it's also an ignorant, blinding, blanket veiled answer, and woefully inconsiderate: because circumstances matter.

Photo by Tim Marshall on Unsplash

In nature, animalistic and wild, life and death are intertwined, eat or be eaten, kill or be killed. Or flight and freeze are two other natural reactions in the face of peril and certain demise. As a human being, I accept that and I am intelligent enough to be sentiant, which also means that I am smart enough to understand that aside from me, and you, and what we are born as, hunting prey and killing is required in the wild.

While it is true that hunting for food is natural, humans and any other lifeform that has to survive by killing is a part of life, and always has been.

But then there comes killing for reasons other than for food, or survival. For power, and for land, and territory. It is also a very natural element for the survival of the fittest. Humans and animals are no different there either, and again it is a part of life and living.

Then, we come to those who kill, the killers, the truly awful hardcore murderous species on our planet, bloodthirsty and numb to travesty, pain, suffering, and cruelty. Animals, I have to close my words regarding them before I move to the point I am hopefully going to make through this article. Animals do kill for fun also, not just for necessity, like cats for example. Are they aware and conscious of what they are doing? Yes, of course, but I will say no more about degrees of animal intelligence and their blood-lusting-hobbies; because how can I compare animals to humans on such matters? I can't, given our superiority, our dominance, and our intelligence.

So while death is a part of life, in the most natural sense, we all die right? Of course, but typically that means, to those sensibilities and what I know to be the peaceful day-to-day life of a U.K. westerner, who has never fired a rifle or pistol (minus once as a range), or tried to murder anyone. So you see, I am one of the "for some" who is apart from death in every sense besides dying when I get old, or ill, or some terrible accident. While others are not apart from death, in life.

This, which I am writing, and you are reading, has stemmed from a video, and in this video, people are being slaughtered again, the same as a million other videos of the same shit, day-in, and day-out. This time on Youtube, which won't allow a barcode on a box of a vaping device to be shown because it's deemed???? Whatever Youtube deems it, I cant understand why, other than Youtube being paid off by cigarette companies and lobbyists most likely. But I digress. 

The video in question was this time footage from Ukraine, and I wasn't going to touch on this topic here. But how can I not when so much exposure to it is unavoidable. I just cannot process or comprehend wtf is going on with humans murdering other humans, and what they are all being put through. Every single human, all the deaths, military and civilians, children, elders, disabled persons, and pregnant women. The soldiers on all sides, the politicians, all of them, and everything is allowed to happen. I'm beyond baffled. We aren't the same as any other animal on this planet. 

 For others around the world, and England also, the not so fortunate, or the deranged, going around stabbing one another like nothing, without a second thought. I just can't fathom how anyone can take a life that isn't yours to take? ANY LIFE.

What makes the actions sicker, and what inspired me to write this, are the comments on these videos and posts. People having a laugh, making jokes, and sharing touches of humour of a disposition crazy enough to literally vomit. It's as if my brain doesn't have the capacity to allow myself to remotely view or channel what must be going through these poor people's minds. Victims and offenders alike.

We have reached a point as a species that was and violence should have been something of distant history, and we should have gotten past all of that by now. I'm weeping from my soul, my heart and I'm just so disappointed, I don't have an ounce of anything close to relatability to those who commit, command, and allow such atrocities to happen. Globally, not one person, or location, or race, all of them.

Shame on you, humans, shame on you.

Goodbye

For the past couple of months, I have been in a battle with myself to pick up the pen and begin writing again. It isn’t a problem I have experienced an issue with before; because the written language has always been the best form of communication and expression for me. If anyone reads this I ask that you not take this post as something to judge as my typical works, it is not, however, I need to get past this stage of my life, and the only way to do that is to stop collecting sheets of half-written attempts at trying to make sense of life, as it currently is for me.

In October my grandmother, Nan as I know her, passed away after waging war with cancer; multiple cancers. She raised me and I lived with my grandparents from when I was six months old and the reality is they were my parents.

I was her full-time intensive carer and it was an incredibly traumatic and devastating time, it still is. For me, the war is still raging as a lot has happened since October, but in some aspects, a great deal has not happened. I have to move house due to being a council housing association and it is a 3 bedroom. I have a lot of possessions which I am having to fight to be able to keep as the downsizing may become difficult to do so. I am autistic and have numerous health issues; such as ADHD, which I am saving to write about in the future, but it is important to mention it now. And it is a deciding factor as to why I have been struggling so much to get all this down onto paper; because tragedy is all that has loomed since her passing. 

It seemed like the best way to ease back into writing my content for Esoteric Student. And there is a potential that some of what I write may be somewhat helpful, and hold some value to someone, at some point; because this situation isn’t typical. It is unique and complex, so I believe. But only if I am able to get it down onto paper/screens.

I simply just cannot, as hard as I try, get the order I desperately need to filter the chaos and overwhelming emotions of the turmoil of the tragedy-scarred period, until it writes itself when it is ready, and instead notify you of the situation and move away to other topics and get my writing muscles working again.

The following is a eulogy I wrote shortly after her passing, which I never got to say.:

While I am crushed and internally inconsolable, there are dimensions to my grief. I wish to focus on what she asked me a few days prior to Nan’s passing, which was “I’ve done ok, haven’t I? You know, I mean as a person, I’ve been a good person?” It hit me so hard, and I assured her yes without a doubt, and I tried to explain to her my memories, to explain to her just how much she has done for me, and that I have and will never ever forget, nor take anything about it for granted. I wanted to tell her that my earliest memories are of Nan, in a pinny, cooking in the kitchen, a pie, or bread pudding, it was snowy out and I was playing with Sheba, a German Sheppard. I remember the times we went into the city, our town, to haggle and barter with the outdoor market sellers, by the Bullring shopping centre in Birmingham.

Each and every day Nan got me up for school, made me breakfast and a packed lunch, and then walked me to my junior school, it felt like miles, but that’s because it was. Rain, sun, snow, ice, it never mattered. Then she would have to walk all the way home again to have to do it all over again to collect me. Occasionally my Mum would drive or walk instead but not often, as far as I can remember. Nan must have been in a lot of pain with her arthritis to do that every day. I know I was, due to having childhood arthritic deformations I was born with. Not only that though, but she would also cook and clean every day!

I will never forget her coming to comfort me at 2, or 3 am, nightly almost, with me having lucid night terrors and nightmares. Quite honestly there are countless more things I could tell you about, maybe I will someday.

Strength, stubbornness, intelligence, fury, love. These are some of the traits which have helped us, notably over the six months we fought cancer, and have helped me since Nan’s passing, which I see as being a gift from her to me. Nan never wanted to develop illnesses which affect the mind, and those traits helped to do that, I believe. Nan, much like myself, has the strength, and streak in us of defiance, which can be seen as character flaws to some. But without defiance, we wouldn’t have achieved what we did together by defying what we were told was impossible!

Nan’s dying wish was to pass away at home, to never be discarded to some old people's home, or hospice, to be treated by someone who just nods and smiles, and dismisses her the second they walk away and onto the next person. Her strength, intelligence, stubbornness, fury, defiance and love prevented that outcome which was also passed on to me. She gave me her strength, intelligence, stubbornness, fury, defiance and love, and we fought together. Nan gave me all I needed to aid her in her quest to stay at home, just like Nan gave her all, her absolute everything to help me be here today. She gave her heart, mind and soul to stay at home and fought hard, really hard, and me having the privilege of caring for her 24/7 intensely, has changed me forever.

I have found and lost a person who in her final six months, and despite our closeness raising me from six months old, became much closer than I ever understood a relationship between an (effectively) mother and son could be possible or even any relationship through a bond. We fought so hard together, mostly on our own. Sleepless nights, paramedics, hygiene, medications, adapting how to best help and changing with the tide on a daily basis from weekly, then down to hourly. We came up with ways of doing things which prevented as much stress as possible and we demonstrated to, at times also corrected, the health care professionals on our new moves. Such as a bear hug when Nan is lying down on the bed, and I stood over her from the side as it makes it much easier to slide her back up to the pillow area, and takes just two seconds rather than 4 people on either side holding the edges of a wendy sheet and them all struggling; while Nan lay there in pain on the specially designed hospital bed in the living room/lounge. That was our battlefield, the war room in which we fought and turned into a small hospital with all the equipment required. There is so much more I could write about this but it isn’t right to do so, just know that many methods we employed and we got creative with it, all to keep Nan at home, and for me to honour my vow.

Since the experience and duty of my vow to aid her as best as I possibly could, I am different, changed, enlightened and wiser.

Dear Nan,

Yes, we had time, we knew where we were headed together, and of course, I am deeply hurting but…I don’t expect others to understand how I feel because while I feel a sense of pride in what we accomplished, I’m also happy for you because we won, you won a battle we were told we couldn’t. We accomplished something together that I was told by the healthcare professionals at the top of their game, was incredibly hard to achieve and what you and I did together was so very rare and special. But in truth it was all you, you did it, you guided us all, me especially, on what to do and how to be so strong doing it. You won your biggest battle of an unwinnable war cancer waged with you, and it was the biggest honour of my life to be the one at your side to witness and tell your story. You taught me how to be strong, intelligent, stubborn, with fury and defiance in the face of the fight for your life. It was not us alone though, our dog was and is the third wheel who worked as hard as we did, bless her. She guarded, cuddled, comforted, and acted as a rapid alarm should all else have failed us.

We both miss you immensely and immeasurably. Thank you for giving us everything, your absolute best, along with Grandad who left us too soon, have given me a chance at a future. I tried to fight, and to give you my very best, and now, I will give that future and our dog’s future my all. Which you have taught me how to do.

Love from…your (Grand)son. xxx