The Long Watch

For the past couple of months I've been talking to a friend in the North. We were lovers briefly once and parted as friends many years ago. Selfishly, being where I am, I was delighted to hear from her, someone to talk to, a buffer against the loneliness, someone who had cared for me.

She has a partner, all going well if dull as far as I knew, so puzzled as to why the call. It soon came clear why she needed to talk to me. Her mother was dying slowly and painfully and she had moved in with her, to try to mend what had not been a close relationship and to help her Mum leave with as much dignity as she could give her. While her partner and family were nearby they were little help (partner scared of death, family squabbling and 'busy'), and the messy circumstances of her mother's illness were not what she had expected.

Her mum was, sad to say, needy and waspish, and the nearness of her death had not been acknowledged by her, making it difficult for my friend to connect and forgive and to gain the reconciliation she craved. She would call late at night in tears, pouring out her anger and fear. She too was frightened of death and watching her mother die so painfully, increased that fear. Because I was apart from it all and we had been close once meant she felt she could talk to me about her anger and despair without being judged.

So tough for her.
I seem to have seen more of death than most, been to too many funerals, seen bodies torn and crushed. Doesn't help. Other than to know I can get through it. I had sat once with a friend who was dying a similar death, but he was brave enough to make me go away, to take my memory of him intact. A gift beyond price looking back. We said our goodbyes, honestly and with love, eventually there was nothing more to be said and he had the grace to know that. In Pace Requiescat, Mick.

That wasn't to be for my northern friend. Or me. I wanted to help and think I did, listening, reassuring, through a crackly phone, time after time. Hate talking on phones, through texts. Big things, important things, love and concern can only really be expressed face to face, hand to hand, eye to eye. You should be there.

If I'm honest (and I am) I wanted it to stop, for her mother to die. There seemed no resolution possible without death for either of them, I could hear my friend ebbing and crumpling with every call. And, selfishly I know, I would put the phone down feeling darker, she having no idea how down I had been before she rang. Nor should she; it really, really, wasn't about me.

Finally, last night she called to say that her mum had died. They had managed an ending of sorts, she had been able to talk to her mum alone while she was (she believed) still concious without any of the family around, for a while. I'm glad for her, she had stood a long and hard watch, maybe the longest any of us can take, glad that she had at least that thin release.

Like many people I think she hoped that the dark glamour of the approach of Death, the Death Bed, as in so many books and films, will spontaneously produce solace, resolution a neat ending between the two of them. It rarely does of course, there is no third entity there, only two people with all the potential for misunderstanding and confusion there is between any two people at any other time. And there is no end, you go on. It can change those who see it though, the survivors. Apart from the impact of grief, if they embrace the true meaning of the event it can give them a fierce commitment to love and life, and to those they love who remain.

I hope she gained from it, but am not sure she did in my heart of hearts. As at sea, some people shouldn't do the long watches, not without someone who can standing by them; they are not for everyone and there is no shame in knowing that of yourself. Give what comfort you need to or can, be wary of the cost to your self and the people who rely on you, and expect nothing back.

My friend was generous in her thanks to me, said she couldn't have done it without me being on call, but that didn't make me feel any better. I don't think she should have been there on her own and feel bad about enabling that, if I'm honest.
And I am.

Don't expect to hear from her again.