Grief, life and meaning

Today I read such a sad news story on the BBC website (http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/west_yorkshire/8349764.stm.) The funeral service was held yesterday for nurse Helen Smith who died tragically in 1979. No, that date isn't a typo, and yes, I am writing this in 2009. The funeral was held 30 years after her death.

Her father, Ron Smith, thought the circumstances of her death were suspicious and refused to allow the funeral until he proved his theory that she had been murdered. But now, at the age of 83, Ron finally decided to hold the funeral before he himself dies (he is suffering from kidney disease and requires dialysis 4 times a week).

His desire to discover the truth became an obsession - in his own words he pursued the matter "relentlessly." As a result, he is estranged from his ex-wife and their 3 other children, has lost his friends and leads a solitary existence. And even though he has now permitted the funeral, he has no intention of stopping but intends to continue his campaign until he succeeds or dies.

As a parent myself, I feel that the death of one's child must be the most devastating blow. I hope and pray that I never find out myself what it must feel like. I'm sure that one never truly forgets. And yet Life is for living. Life is for the living. When we are wounded we scream, weep, mourn, berate Fate or God, get angry, depressed... and then we come through the blackness. We reach daylight. And if the sun doesn't seem so bright and the shadows are darker than they once were, so be it.

Ron Smith got lost in trying to find make sense of it all. "I'm not really concerned about people's emotions or about my emotions, I'm concerned about facts," he said.

Refusing to express painful emotions, repressing memories and denying reality are all ways that we hold onto toxic material. These eventually manifest in the body in disease. The main function of the kidneys is to filter the blood and remove toxic substances that would otherwise poison the body, excreting them in urine. In not coming to terms with his emotions, I feel that Ron Smith has just pissed his life away instead.

And this is what is so sad. I'm sure he loved his daughter. But he had living people to love too: family and friends, all of whom were wanting love & support and were willing to offer it too. He chose to turn his back on them, to pursue facts rather than feeling. He thought he could find answers. But there is no point seeking meaning in Death. There is none. It is merely the context in which we exist. There is no life without death, just as there is no light without dark. If we are wise we enjoy the sunshine, knowing that one day night will fall. We should mourn the dead then leave the graveyard, because all too soon it will be our turn to go and not come back.

Eczema, teeth and buttocks

My grandfather had wonderful teeth. He was a handsome man, but the one feature my grandmother adored was his lovely smile. He was also fortunate to be one of the lucky young men who actually survived World War 1. Just under 900,000 UK soldiers met their death in that awful conflict. Bad enough - but spare a thought for what was then the Kingdom of Serbia, where an estimated 16% of the entire population was killed.

But I digress.

My grandfather, then, survived the war, although he was wounded in the buttock. He survived and his beautiful teeth charmed a young lady, and three children resulted (my mother being the first). But life wasn't all sweetness and light. My grandfather developed eczema and stomach troubles. The doctor tried various treatments, but none were successful. So they decided it was all caused by 'bad teeth.' Apparently, that was the thing in those days. Teeth could cause all sorts of ailments, even if they were apparently healthy.

So - terrible day - the doctors insisted that the only cure would be for my grandfather to have all his teeth extracted. And extracted they duly were. Did it cure the eczema and the stomach troubles? I'll give you three guesses - and a hint that the answer begins with the letter 'n'... Of course it ddin't cure anything. My grandfather continued to suffer from eczema and stomach troubles, but now lived without his beautful teeth.

Then about 1935, his old war wound flared up and he developed an abcess on the buttock. Eventually it burst - and a piece of shrapnel came out. It must have been embedded there for about 18 years. The abcess healed up - and so did his eczema and stomach troubles. The shrapnel must have been poisoning his entire system. His teeth had been sacrificed for nothing.

Medical science has progressed since then. But it's not perfect. It's hard to imagine a day when there will be nothing more to learn, no further progress to be made. And doctors, however wonderful a job they do, are human and fallible. Me, I like to think that a really good bodyworker (had they existed in his day) would have found the root of the problem and saved my grandfather's beautiful teeth. I think our bodies hold a great deal of wisdom - if we would only listen. So if you have a chronic condition, listen to your body before you take any drastic action.