Grief is troublesome. It sticks to you like thistledown – silent, but with the potential to erupt and grow. You can’t park it and get on with your life without it affecting you. Try as you might, it creeps into your thoughts. The missing one screams at you from everything that she has touched and you find that she is all around you. You realise that she was so much a part of your life that you didn’t even notice how much she helped and guided you.
Grief is troublesome. It sticks to you like thistledown – silent, but with the potential to erupt and grow. You can’t park it and get on with your life without it affecting you. Try as you might, it creeps into your thoughts.
The missing one screams at you from everything that she has touched and you find that she is all around you. You realise that she was so much a part of your life that you didn’t even notice how much she helped and guided you.
Last week we were on holiday in Los Angeles and got word that a dear friend had died. It coloured my impression of LA. All I saw was a city of concrete and traffic. We stayed with our friends, Tommy and Maria, for the last few days. It was comforting and homely to be with two wonderful, young people.
Julie and Tommy are the same age. I remember the day he was born to our friends John and Betty. We recounted stories from their childhood times. The two families interacted a lot and our children attended the same secondary school. It made for firm friendships. With that comes a familiarity and understanding that is valuable in times of celebration and tribulation.
Tommy imitated how I scolded him when he was learning to drive! That young boy has been replaced by a man who is highly educated, has a lovely wife, a fine home in LA and a huge welcome for the folks back home. He showed us that there was a heart buried deep in this huge city. Tommy and Maria had planned our few days perfectly, with sightseeing, nice food, walks and shopping. There was something to keep us all happy.
CHANCE
Oftentimes, the best experiences of a holiday happen by chance. Tommy and Maria understand Diarmuid and his love of film. They knew exactly where to take him.
As we walked around the streets of the Hollywood area, Tommy noticed that a street was closed off. He knew that meant filming. We took a walk and happened upon a film crew shooting an episode of American Crime season two.
It was the Versace murder from the 1990s. The street was lined with old American Jaguars and other cars from the era. Police on motorbikes guarded them at access points.
Diarmuid is all about photographs, so I told him to go down and stand by the set and turn around for me to take a picture. Off he went. I wondered if he’d be cleared off. Instead, the crew saluted him with a “welcome buddy”.
The guys who were guarding the rig were happy to pose for pictures with D while he stood in the middle of cameras and film trucks. It was the highlight of his trip and eased the disappointment of his fear at Universal Studios. Hollywood had come good after all.
Sometimes things turn out right when we least expect it. We visited the Hollywood sign and D got that all-important picture. We travelled around Beverley Hills that is punctuated with tall, pencil conifers. We peeped at the magnificent mansions that mostly live behind closed gates. We saw the street where Cameron Diaz grew up. We strolled on the beach promenade.
We saw opulence, mansions and glitz on the one hand and extreme poverty on the other. Families were living in cars on one street. Many of California’s homeless come to LA because one can live outside for almost all of the year.
Julie and I did some shopping, with Tommy acting as our expert guide. It was fun and we did forget our inner turmoil for a while.
PROFESSOR MURPHY
On one evening, after dark, we drove up to Signal Hill to view the city of Long Beach and beyond. It was on a night when the view was good. LA can be quite obscured by the presence of smog. I found myself cleaning my glasses for a better view to find that the scene became no clearer.
As we stood there chatting and enjoying the sights, a student approached Tommy: “Good evening Professor Murphy. How are you…”
It was a golden moment for me. Yes, I knew that Tommy was a university lecture and a professor of mathematics, but hearing a student speak to him with admiration was really nice.
Our own children grow up and we live each stage with them but so do we live and enjoy the experiences of our friends’ children.
BACK TO REALITY
On returning home, realities of all sorts flooded in. I was poignantly reminded of Bruce Springsteen’s song that he penned in 1995 and rewrote following 9/11 in 2001. My friend was gone.
“Picture on the nightstand, TV’s on in the den
Your house is waiting… for you to walk in…
But you’re missing…
Children are asking if it’s alright
Will you be in our arms tonight?”
Next week, teachers, staff and students will return to school. Little ones will carry bags that are too heavy already but some will also carry the loss of a loved one in their hearts. Maybe mammy or daddy died over the summer. Maybe grandad or granny passed away or a sibling or a special friend.
I think it is really important to have this conversation with children. Encourage them not to shy away from saying the words “I’m sorry that you have lost your mammy” and then to stop and listen. It is difficult to sympathise but it is, unfortunately, a skill that we all require.
It’s a new school year and let’s work to make our schools and our communities safe places for people who are finding the going difficult. CL
This is a subscriber-only article
SHARING OPTIONS: