The kindness of love

 February is traditionally the month of love.  Much of this is in the form of chocolates, cards and overpriced flowers on the 14th.  For me, this year, the month of February showed me love in other, deeper, more meaningful ways.  I saw love in my siblings sitting next to my father's hospital bed every day he was there.  I saw in it the cups of tea bought for me at Vincent Pallotti Hospital's little cafe.  I saw it in my daughter reading extracts from The Little Prince to her grandfather in  his conscious moments. Love was a squeeze of a hand, a shoulder to cry on, friends checking in with me.

Endings are usually difficult, and my father's death two weeks ago, was ungentle (if that is a word) and difficult.  His body finally caved in on him.  Actually, to me, it felt more like a volcanic explosion than a caving in, as though his insides couldn't be contained any more and erupted through stoma bag and his under functioning lungs.  This may be too much detail, but sometimes we gloss over the reality of death, and I don't want to do that. It was difficult to watch.

Mom and Dad

We held a tea to honor him last weekend. ( Tea, as you know, is my drug of choice when I am stressed, and let's just say I have consumed a ship load recently).  It is all too recent for me to write much about how I am feeling.  There is a certain rawness and vulnerability that comes with the realization that both my parents have abandoned earth.

I scrolled through some of my father's whatsapp messages to me over the last 6 months.Ninety percent of them are shopping lists, which I know off by heart anyway.  Yoghurt, soup, peaches, rolls, coke, cheese, fruit juice and bananas were the basics, and the steady rhythm of requests feels like a love poem to me sometimes.  Actually, it is in Pick n Pay that I feel the most bereft at the moment, and it takes courage for me not to weep in the Tinned Fruit Aisle. I am just avoiding shopping for the time being. My Dad also liked to end his messages with appropriate and numerous emojis. Flower, heart, rose, heart, thank you hands, sunflower, heart, and his signature smiley face with glasses that he used to identify himself. I will miss this whatsapp poetry.

Love is such a strange and complicated concept, entangled with emotions, thoughts, vulnerabilty and yearning.  And all that is swirling in me at the moment.  

Tread carefully please: spillage in the Tinned Fruit Aisle.👴🌼💓🌹💓🌻🙏