LOSING THE ONES YOU LOVE
WASHINGTON, DC, September 30, 2018 – Most people at some time or another have experienced the grief and overwhelming sadness of losing a loved one. During my lifetime I have lost four close relatives, and my reactions differed with each circumstance.
I was 15 when my maternal grandfather died suddenly of coronary thrombosis. He was the only grandfather I had known, as my father had lost both his parents when he was still a very young child. Frederick Short, or Grandpa as I knew him, was a quiet but cheerful person. He and my grandmother, Agnes, lived in Torquay, Devon, and he drove a taxi. A smart black Humber. My parents and I lived abroad a lot, as my father was serving in the army, so I only got to see my grandparents on annual visits home. I remember Grandpa’s strong Devonshire accent and his love of gardening. He had a large vegetable garden at the back of their row house half way up the hill on South Street. He was always so disappointed that I didn’t like beets, as he took great pride in growing them.
When Grandpa turned 65 he retired, and he won a car in a raffle. We were all so happy for him and Grandma, they were comfortably set for their twilight years. Three months later we got the call. He had taken the car to its garage around the corner from their house, and had collapsed. My uncle John, the oldest of his four sons, was passing and saw the people gathering around him, and stopped to find his father had had a heart attack. I can only imagine how John must have felt, and how difficult it must have been to tell Grandma that she had just lost the love of her life. To me, my grandparents had always seemed to be the sweetest, kindest people, and it was devastating to lose Grandpa so suddenly.
A few years later, Grandma was diagnosed with an autoimmune disease, primary biliary cirrhosis of the liver. She lost a lot of weight and was taking medication that made her feel quite sick a lot of the time. I was living just over 100 miles from Torquay, and once a month I would travel there for a weekend, and Grandma would put on a big show of fixing one of her wonderful Sunday roast dinners, but we all knew that she was not eating like that all the time. She came to stay with me for about two weeks, insisting on making the journey of several hours on a bus. I will never forget when I picked her up at the bus station how frail she was and how much pain she was in. She was barely able to get up and down the stairs in the house, but after a few days of eating well and resting she began to rally. She was much stronger when she returned home and I felt hopeful.
In June 1979, Grandma was admitted to hospital. Her personal doctor told me that there were much more serious complications and that the family should prepare themselves for the worst. I was 23 then, and had never experienced the feelings that come with anticipating the imminent death of a loved one. Although you know that it is inevitable, denial is strong. You don’t want your loved one to suffer, but you don’t want to let them go either. Her passing, although expected and thankfully very peaceful, was still a shock. She was only 69 years old. I know that she had spent the nine years since losing her husband so suddenly grieving for him, as well as being so very ill and in pain. I so wished that she could have had the retirement years with him that they both deserved, and that added to the pain of losing them both.
Last year, Uncle John passed away. He was a quiet, gentle person, kept very much to himself, loved soccer and had retired from his lifelong job as a mechanic. My best memories of him are from my childhood. Like sitting on the rooftop patio in the garden at my grandparents’ house brushing the tabby cat, Desdemona, that loved to sit with him because he was quiet. His passing was so sad, he seemed like such a lonely figure, although he lived with two of his brothers at Grandma’s house after they all retired. My much younger cousins probably knew him better than I did, as they lived nearby, while I was always overseas.
When my own children grew up and went to university in Scotland, my son Chris had a girlfriend, Emma. They met in the Isle of Man, where Chris and my daughter Claire were going to school. Emma was a native of the Isle of Man. She was such a beautiful, caring, creative and happy person. I was living in the Bahamas then, and in 2002 Chris and Claire brought Emma for a visit. We had a wonderful time, the highlights of their visit being a speed boat trip to the beautiful Exuma Cays and the crown jewel of The Bahamas, Harbour Island, where the beaches have pink sand. It was a lovely “getting to know you” visit for Emma, and I had high hopes for her and Chris.
When Chris graduated from Aberdeen, they moved to Manchester where Chris had a job lined up, and Emma, who had been to college to get her qualifications in child care, worked at a home for battered women, taking care of the needs of the children who lived at the home with their mothers. In 2008 they came back to Nassau to get married on the beach on the anniversary of their meeting each other seven years earlier, February 28th. It was such a pretty, casual wedding, Emma’s close family had come too, and afterwards we had a buffet meal at the Market Place in the Atlantis resort. Although they laughingly assured me they wouldn’t be making me a grandmother too soon, by the end of the year I was not too surprised to get a call telling me that Emma was expecting a baby, due in June 2009. I was thrilled for them!
The birth of my first grandchild was something I did not want to miss. The logistics of getting to England from the Bahamas in time for the birth obviously could not be precise, so we decided to settle on my going over for a month a few days after Emma’s due date. Beautiful Lily Ann arrived on June 25th, 2009, and I got my first cuddle on July 5th. It was a wonderful visit, reuniting with Chris, Emma, and Claire, and a real tug at my heart to have to leave after spending a few weeks with them all.
Lily grew to become such a beautiful little girl. It was quite a blow to learn when she was about three years old that something wasn’t quite right, and that she was having some hearing tests done. It turned out that Lily’s hearing was fine, but further testing determined that she had autism. Chris and Emma really had their hands full now, as Lily was extremely active, climbing everything in sight and totally without fear! My heart jumped at the first pictures they sent of Lily climbing a rock wall, kitted out with a harness and head gear. She was thoroughly enjoying herself! Emma had her work cut out keeping Lily engaged and busy with many creative projects. Emma’s training in child care stood her in good stead for the task of raising this very active little girl. They made cup cakes and Christmas ornaments, went pony riding, rock wall climbing, and made frequent trips to zoos and the safari park at Longleat. Lily has grown up with a love of animals and doing creative things with her hands, and is a very bright little girl, due mostly to Emma’s devotion to her.
Then Emma began to feel unwell, and after a few visits to the doctor in early 2016 she was diagnosed with cholangiocarcinoma. It is a very rare cancer, with a very low survival rate. Emma had to have emergency surgery, followed by 6 months of chemo. A diagnosis like this is devastating to the patient, but having worked in a gastroenterology practice for 10 years with a wonderful doctor, I know from experience that the patients are usually stronger in the face of such adversity than their family members. And Emma was a strong person to begin with. She was determined that no matter what happened, she would make the most of the time she had, and make it her goal to beat this cancer, fighting it every step of the way.
At times like this, being surrounded by supportive family and friends gives the patient so much strength of purpose, and Emma took on the challenge bravely, her sparkling personality shining through in everything she did. Lily was the centre of her life, and beating this cancer was her focus. Despite the odds she was up against, every time I saw pictures on Facebook of the activities she was involved in, the fun she brought to the lives of Lily and her friends and family, I felt a surge of admiration and love and, most of all, hope.
So when the news came earlier this year that a few months earlier Emma had been told her cancer had returned and had spread, it was a terrible shock. Again, Emma handled this with dignity and strength. She shared her story in a blog and on Facebook, in the hope that it would inspire others who were going through similar challenges.
Although we all knew that it was just a matter of time, getting the call from Chris that Emma had been admitted to a hospice for palliative care was still devastating news. I know that all her family as well as myself will be eternally grateful to the Countess Mountbatten Hospice for the loving care and comfort they gave Emma in her last days. I hope they knew, in fact I am sure they did know, what a precious jewel they were entrusted with. While my grief cannot compare to that of her mother, sisters, and Chris, I can say that the weeks, days and hours leading up to the passing of someone you love in this way are the hardest I have ever had to deal with. Waves of grief and tears hit you without warning, anywhere, any time, anxiety literally grips your heart as if squeezing the life out of it. It was hard to focus on anything other than to pray that she was not suffering, that her passing would be peaceful and without pain. It is hard to come to terms with why this happens to good people.
Emma passed peacefully on September 12, 2018. She was only 37 years old. Her life was short, but she left a beautiful legacy; everyone who knew her will have the most wonderful memories of her and a life well lived. And the greatest gift of all, her daughter Lily.
