About yesterday…I’ve been in Essex. I went there Wednesday after work and stayed with friends overnight. On Thursday I’ve attended the funeral…Mom of another friend of mine has died.I loved her mom. She was like a little sunshine – evercaring, everhappy, for everyone she would have a word of encouragement, a thought of concern. I want to leave my memories of her – a humble tribute to the
Little Woman With Big Heart.
I can’t remember when she came to live in UK, maybe about 15 years ago. Her daughter, having moved to UK, brought her parents over to look after them. (Bless her British husband, who always supports her in this!)I think, her mom and dad both were in their 70-ies back then. Or maybe a little younger. Doesn’t matter. Old enough to be admired for their bravery as to leave all their memories and habits behind and to embrace new way of life. Different country, different culture, different everything – its hard enough for younger individuals. But for them…they didn’t speak language, didn’t used to just sit at home and do nothing…they are a products of soviet upbringing, hard childhood, adolescence in Stalin’s times…realities of war, bringing up kids…they were being just like any other ordinary Russian families, old generation of hardworking and honest people.
What amazed me when I’ve met her for the first time she was…studying English on some of the beginner’s courses. That happened about 9 years ago. And since then I never saw her without a text book, no time wasted – learning, learning, learning…she would be doing exercises from the textbook, she would listen to audio tapes, carefully repeating new words, phrases…She was studying ALL THE TIME! I really admired her will to know new things. Her will to be involved in her new society as much as she could. Before her arthritis got worse, she used to sew for neighbours, taking work home. She made so many new friends – everybody loved her! She loved flowers. So much. I believe, when I’ll be thinking of her, I will always see flowers in my mind. As soon as the first sun returned after winter, she was always in a garden, caring about her little pots and pansies. This is how I will always remember her – With The Book Among The Flowers…
It was a sad day – the day we said our last good byes…One good thing about funerals – you can let your sorrow out till your eyes become dry from no more tears and then you leave it behind, with the one who will leave the memory of them in return…
When I’ve been thinking about the whole process of dying and staying behind…I couldn’t help, but see it the way that all our tears, and sadness and deep grieve appears to originate from the sense of own loss…I would even say – it is not their death that we mourning over, it is our life without them, that scares us on the moment of the final parting…it is “how I can live without…” thing…And it’s ok. This is how it is supposed to be. We do realise that this person will never be with us and this understanding is deep inside and our mind can perfectly accept the fact. What we can’t bare is – that we should now learn to live without them. It is only when someone’s gone, we will notice those little things in our life that were there only because of their presence…
When I was watching her husband, I can’t even describe my feelings for him…His eyes were like immeasurable teardrops…muscles of his face were so tense, it seemed they’ll burst after shivering a moment longer…he squeezed his fists as if was ready for a fight with fate…unimaginable – the depth of his loss…admirable - how he was trying to be strong…
This was my first time I’ve attended the funerals in this country…it was a very noble and emotionally rich service. …In a sadness I’m making a note that perhaps, while getting older, we are bound to have more of such tearful occasions…elders going…then – friends…someone before, another –after…will we ever meet after we dead?... would we want to meet?...will we remember if we do?
I’m thinking…do we ever think of what will happen after we die? Funerals, where we will be buried? Surely we can make arrangements, will, whatever…but this is not what I meant. Can we really predict where we will meet our final hour? Home? Somewhere thousands miles from it? We never know until it comes, do we?
I will never want to be buried. To be tired to one place. I never want to make those who love me to be attached to particular geographical position, which means absolutely nothing to me or to them…I mean – isn’t it weird, that you live all your life in places that you liked, places where you’ve been happy…then, when you dead, suddenly you’ll be left on a cemetery, alongside with others you never knew, maybe with few of your closed ones…but common – why would you ever want to be there?! To me this is as if excluding you from the access list to all the places you used to love…why is that?
The more I think about it, the more I don’t want to have a grave…let my ashes be scattered by the wind in the river or the sea…let there will be no place on Earth that would remind the saddest moment of my life – my death. I want to be remembered when they visit places, where I was happy. I want them to have cheerful memories of me, not a sorrow moments…But of course, this is only My Own Personal Wish…
Perhaps, it is time to make an adjustments to the way of thinking of the inevitable…