making sense of loss

They say bad news comes in threes.  I hope that means we're done.  January has been one for the record books.  I'm trying to process it, to make sense of the senseless, and to find lessons in it all.  I wrote about confronting loss back in the summer, after standing with MM as his father passed.  I wrote then about the meaning in final moments, and those thoughts are running rampant again.

One

The bad news started with a cousin MM hadn't seen since childhood, whom he recently found was also a friend of his closest friend.  He'd been ill with pancreatic cancer for some time.  He passed away at the same time that people were gathering for a benefit for his care.  He was in his early thirties.

I didn't know this young man, so my thoughts are a bit more general and may be wholly irrelevant.  But, I've long heard, including from Dr Dad, that patients who pass away after a long illness know when it is okay to go.  Some will wait for family to arrive, others wait till a member who couldn't handle the moment is out of the room.  I wonder if this young man felt a certain type of peace drawn from the knowledge that he was loved by many.  And if he also wanted to know people were together and safe.  There's a beauty in all that.  In wanting peace and to feel loved in the last moments.  And wanting your loved ones to feel the same.  They are moments we should seek out before our last.

Two

A brother-in-law, at times truly a brother, of MM's.  He was actually the first person MM introduced me to (I got a "you did good" review in a text).  His death was unexpected.  He was in his mid-40s.  He left behind three children and one step-daughter, ranging in age from mid-twenties to merely nine.

I don't think I'll ever lose the image of the nine year old girl running barefoot from her door, jumping into MM's arms, in tears, and saying "I miss my Daddy."  That moment is part of what I'll take away from this loss.  MM hadn't seen the niece in some time but there was an immediate connection.  That sense of connecting, and reconnecting, permeated the days spent with the family and friends.  It reminded me that death can bring people together.  And that we shouldn't wait for a sad event to make those connections. 

In a similar but distinct vein, this loss served as an image of how I think such times should go.  There was a lot to do in the days proceeding the funeral, the wrapping up that needs to be done when a loss is unexpected.  The memorial was a time for mourning and sadness, a noting of the passing.  When we returned to the family home, they played the same slide-show that had been at the memorial for a while.  I missed the moment when the change was made, but at some point that switched and a Just Dance game was flipped on.  I got a medical excuse but most others played, including people who hadn't connected in many years.  People laughed and had fun, both playing and watching.  This felt so right to me.  The loved ones mourned.  And then they lived on.  They reconnected and celebrated togetherness.  I'd want that one day.  To be remembered but also to have everyone live and smile and laugh.  Funerals are about loss but, in my mind at least, they can also be about life.

Three

This one was from my side.  My uncle was into vitamins and fitness before the days of GNC Vita-Packs and before everyone's key rings were adorned with gym membership cards.  He had a seizure one day and, although they weren't sure there was a direct link, it led to the scans that revealed brain cancer.  It was a vicious form, one people didn't tend to live with for long.  He fought an impressive three and a half years, including walking his daughter down the aisle in November and making sure his son was able to fly home from Arizona to say goodbye.  He'd gone downhill in the past year but never stopped fighting.  A final surgery in late November marked the shift towards the end.  He was in his mid-60s.

I'd grown up seeing this branch of my family about four or five times a year.  My Uncle was always all smiles.  At the service, we heard again and again how he'd touched people.  He'd always praised everyone, from his family to the staff at the cancer center.  And they all came to say goodbye. His son's childhood friends commented that my Uncle often seemed more interested in their lives as young people than their own fathers.   He found a way to pull out a positive trait and compliment each person in a very personal manner rather than a more superficial way.  He was a teacher and a therapist by trade and carried similar traits beyond the office.

I've been thinking about all that in recent days.  He lived for connection and dedicated himself to making people feel seen and appreciated.  Hearing people speak reminded me of how important that is and how real and meaningful it is to touch people in small moments.  I've always said I didn't need to be remembered in history books and have concrete proof of my days, that I only need to know my life touched other lives and that I gave something to even one person.  This loss made that belief even clearer.  I can only hope to be remembered as well as my Uncle was, as well as he is. 

My cousin said to me that he was tired of people saying they were sorry for the loss or how he was too young.  He said he preferred to hear how the people had been touched by his father, the difference his life had made.  That's the insight I'll finish on, the need to remember and celebrate lives and connections and the many ways in which we love and are loved in return.

P.S.  Perhaps it isn't right to add, but we also lost a fish last night, one of the first group we'd bought.  Thanks for living with us and bringing us smiles, Fork. 

Review: The Death of Bees (O'Donnell)

January has not been a good month.  And I have plenty of thoughts rolling through my head, but I'm also exhausted.  So, I'll catch up on a review instead:

• The Death of Bees by Lisa O'Donnell

The book (provided by the publisher) opens with fifteen year-old Marnie and her younger sister, Nellie, burying their parents.  This is a difficult task, but not a particularly sad one since the parents varied between being neglectful and abusive.  The novel follows the girls as they try to stay under the radar until Marnie turns sixteen, the age at which she can legally be her sister's caretaker in their native Scotland.  Marnie has worked with (and had sex with) a known drug dealer and would be easily labelled a delinquent except for the fact that she's never struggled to be a strong student. Nellie is undiagnosed but likely has some form of learning difference.  She also speaks in some variant of "the Queen's English."  The girls both narrate in turns, along with a concerned neighbor (known on the tough block for having solicited a teen boy in a park) who becomes a surrogate caretaker. 

This was a quick read, although it can't really be called an "easy" book.  There are many topics that might turn-off some readers including drugs and sex, both involving young teens.  There is also a constant sense of love and loyalty, between the sisters and within Marnie's crew of friends.  I think that is really the true theme of the book, love in unexpected places and with atypical faces.

Some authors attempt the multiple narrator concept only to have the voices blend, that never happens here and O'Donnell does a great job of crafting distinct voices.  I loved reading Nellie's voice, but it would definitely have been too much as a sole narrator.  The voices are definitely the book's strength.  At times, I felt like it got too gritty...not in the sense that it was offensive (it WAS disturbing, but it is meant to be) but it felt like the author just kept adding more for the sake of more.  There are also moments intended as comic relief that didn't really mesh for me, like the dog tearing up pieces of the parents' graves. 

Three and a half to four stars, depending on where my mind is focusing at that moment.  Clear writing talent and recommended just for watching the voices work.

The Secret Keeper by Kate Morton

I feel like this review has been on my to do list for a while.  I'm still reading slower than I'd like, but hopefully that will change soon and I'll catch up on my reviews too.

• A Quick Shout-Out

I need to throw a Thank You out before I get to the review itself.  I've been a fan of Kate Morton's for a while and was psyched to see a new book from her.  I seem to favor books by authors who only write one or two, so it is nice to have an author to watch.  However, I just couldn't justify buying a first-run book when I have courtesy copies on my stand. 

I entered a few giveaways with no luck.  In a long-shot move, I tracked down a name and sent an email.  I mentioned that I read for Harper and also have posted reviews of many other books over recent years on my blog as well as Goodreads and Amazon.  I also briefly mentioned the health issues that make it impossible to work a job beyond the bit of writing I do. 

I didn't hear back and wrote it off as having been worth a shot.  Then a package showed up at my door.  It made my day...and the many days to come when I got to read it.  I sent a note of thanks but wanted to include the same here.  I don't want to include a name here and have the person get too many emails and regret the kindness.  So it'll be kind of a reverse anonymous expression of gratitude.  Of course, this is still my honest review.

• The Secret Keeper by Kate Morton

I've become a fan of literary mysteries in recent years, novels that happen to include mystery rather than books that are a "whodunit" first and a novel second.  Morton is a leader in this genre and her books always promise character and writing, with a mystery that often involves a character trying to unravel her past and her family's history. 

In The Secret Keeper, Laurel and her siblings are gathering during their mother's final days.  The time pulls Laurel back to a memory she never quite resolved, when she was sixteen and observed her mother stab and kill a man during an otherwise typical family celebration in 1961.  The only other witness was her toddler-age brother.  Laurel works to uncover the story behind this aberration in her otherwise fairly idyllic family life and tries to figure out who Dorothy was before she became devoted to her husband and children.  Laurel's chapters are interspersed with chapters focused on World War Two London as Dorothy comes of age during the terrifying and confusing years of the Blitz.

This isn't my favorite Morton book, but I still very much enjoyed it and it gets a solid four stars.  As in her prior works, the mystery is about characters, the secrets that they hold, and the way they come to be who they are.  It is also about how our family's past informs our own present.  I love Morton's language and her ability to create a sense of a time and a place.  I could feel 1940s London and definitely favored those chapters over Laurel's modern day plot (although I was drawn to the character of her only brother).  I didn't always like every character, but that never prevented me from being interested in them.  I had some inklings about the novel's secrets, but some of the twists did catch me by surprise (something I value). 

Recommended for people for like well-crafted characters and settings.  These elements drive the book and make the reader invest in the novel's mysteries.

P.S.  As I finished this book, I learned it was chosen for the book club hosted by Julie at Peanut Butter Fingers.  I'll try to remember to link to her review when it runs (which also links to a number of other blogger reviews).