Death and the graveyard in my heart

I usually write these posts for you. But today, this one is for me.

Seconds

10 seconds… That’s how long it took for everything to change. 10 seconds from my partner going “fuck!” to “he’s dead”. Count to 10. It’s quick. It’s no time at all.

Another 60 seconds for him to pick up the phone and tell me that our sweet, sweet boy, Gus, had died in a tragic accident whilst I was away on business. Not even 6 months old. 15 million seconds, that’s how long he was on this earth for. That’s what kills me the most because that’s not much time at all. It took another 60 seconds on the phone for me to comprehend what had happened and to realise I would never hold him again. Another 60 seconds thereafter to think about how I will never stand in the kitchen dancing with him to music whilst my coffee brews. Count to 10… boom, everything is different. Life is measured in many things, but for me today, it’s measured by the collective experiences we get to witness in seconds.

We are all connected

And if you’re thinking, “he was just a cat” then you really don’t value life at all. Because his life is our life. Mine and yours. Everyone and everything before us is a part of us. Because we are all just made of particles that vibrate and fluctuate through existence.

Every smile, every breath, every emotion. Our skin, our bones and all the things that make us who we are. Every drunken night, every pint, every stumble, all the first kisses, all the love you've ever loved and all of the suffering you've endured – they are all just atoms oscillating through time and space to make this life as we know it.

We are made of all the people before us, and them of the people before them. In this isolated system, energy cannot be created or destroyed but is endlessly transformed.

So, when we die, those atoms are transferred into energy for something else, and so it goes, we are all made up from each other, of everything before us and the stars that made history. We are all connected. And so, Gus is here with me, tethered to my conscious existence.

The little graveyard I carry in my heart

The thing with Gus’ death is that it opened up the little graveyard that I carry in my aching heart of all the people I’ve lost in my life. The little gate I keep closed - but sometimes visit - is now wide open. As I’m standing here at the entrance, it all floods in:

Approximately 678 million seconds since my father took his own life. How many seconds did he contemplate it before he did it? I kiss him and tell him I miss him. I wish he could have seen what I’d done with my life. In this place, I visit my stepfather who died of alcoholism, how many seconds did he suffer with such terrible anguish? I kiss him and forgive him. I think of my aunt, 7 million seconds from when she got the pancreatic cancer diagnosis until she died. 3 months... that’s all she had to prepare to say goodbye to everyone she ever loved. I kiss her and sing her an Italian song like she always did for me. I kiss my uncle, my friend Anide, my ex-boyfriend, Roland, all the family dogs and my 1-year-old Doberman I had at university. I think of all the innocent lives lost to war every day. All the parents who’ve endured the unspeakable truth of losing a child. Anyone who has lost someone they love. Today… I cry for you all.

Transferring energy

Last but not least, my 99-and-a-half-year-old grandmother. More than 3 billion seconds she spent on this earth. I think of the day I got the call she’d had a stroke. We jump in the car, 14,400 second drive to the hospital.

I see her; she’s erratic and non-verbal. She wants to speak but she can’t anymore. I don’t even know if she recognises me but still, I get into the hospital bed with her and hold her tight. An attempt to absorb the distress as she’s trying to breathe through fluid-filled lungs. Every breath accompanied by a gargle. How many seconds of this do we need to endure?

I hold her through the night. And with every second that passes, I feel her slowing down more. Her frequency vibrating lower and lower. She feels loved. I’m transferring all the love I have in my heart to her. She needs to know how important she is on this earth. Hold, hold, hold until there’s nothing left to hold. Final breath. She didn’t die alone.

I love you forever

As we close Gus’ grave, I accept that the gates to this place in my heart will stay open for some time. I will never count to ten the same way ever again. I wish I had a billion more seconds with you.

I will visit you like I visit the others too. And one day, when it’s my time to go, I know I will have a beautiful garden waiting for me, and it’ll be perfect because you’re in it.