Appropriate Grief - The Degrees of Separation

So.....how well did you know him?

Andrew was a friend of mine. I knew him through my history of musical theatre. We had done several shows together, me on stage and he and his wife backstage. My mother was a good friend of theirs and consequently I was invited to attend social gatherings at his place. That is how well I knew Andrew. Knew. I can no longer say that is how I know Andrew. Because he passed away this morning. And in the blink of an eye, Andrew has become past hence.

I'm writing today from a place of sadness and grief. And a fair amount of shock too. Because although my mother says she told me in January, I swear I only found out he was sick on Friday last week (she may have told me, I did write a whole blog on how vague I can be at times - all the time). And all of a sudden he is gone. Wow.

I remember when I was about 15 my Nana passed away. My dad called us as we were walking to school, and then came up to the school office to see how we were. I was more concerned with how he would be. And Nana had been sick for a very long time so it was somewhat expected. In fact, we had been up to Sydney to visit her just the previous weekend, to say goodbye. And you know one of the things I remember people saying when they first found out? Were you close to her?

Or in other words, how sad are you? How should I respond to you? How deeply are your feeling these emotions and which box can I put this in? Are you:

1. Momentarily upset, 
2. Stoic but strong,
3. Crying and sensitive,
4. Deeply saddened, on the long term scale, or
5. Irrepairably distraught beyond words.

So whenever anyone I knew passed away from that moment on, that is how I felt I needed to explain myself to others, to give them fair warning so they can adjust their level of care and support that they may feel they need to give to me. How odd.

But I don't want to say that my friend Andrew, who I probably only saw once a year on Australia Day but don't see anymore because they moved to QLD, wasn't a close friend. Or that I haven't seen him for about 4 years now. Because perhaps in your mind that may bump my grief down a few notches on the scale of 1 to 5. That perhaps I don't have a right to grieve with whatever force I wish to. That it is appropriate for me to mourn him momentarily, but as he wasn't in direct or regular contact with me, I probably shouldn't get too carried away with tears and long term sad thoughts of times gone by.

But you know what? I say you are wrong. As I take joy in any baby news I hear, I also take sadness in any death I hear of. And when it is someone I know, who at any stage in my life I have loved as a friend, I will grieve that loss in whatever manner I see fit, regardless of how much I 'should' take on board.

I have experienced varying degrees of grieve through my lifetime. I know the loss of a child can be an irreversible trauma, and the loss of a grandparent can be a peaceful, yet sad acceptance. I know the loss of a young person brings up so much anger and frustration, and that a tragic and shocking accident is no easier to deal with than being prepared for the end after a long, drawn out and painful illness. I know what it is like to cry at a picture or at the sound of a song 5 years later, with grief that is as new as the day it arrived.

And I know how it feels to be judged for not grieving the appropriate way, for the appropriate time. For offending others when trying to reach out a hand in unity, for showing too much emotion or not enough. For yet again struggling to understand death - the concept that someone ceases to exist as of a second on a clock. Yes, I believe in an afterlife. But I'm talking about that person ceasing to exist in the world I know right now. Earth! That there will be a time that the world will function without (insert whoever you wish here).

At some point in time this morning, Andrew no longer was Andrew. All of a sudden, his body was just a body and was no longer him as a person. And Di, his beautiful wife, is expected to leave him at the hospital, to walk away from him at the end of today and perhaps never look upon his face in person again. To go home to their bed. Drive their car? Open their fridge. Her fridge. Her car. Her bed. All within an instant.

So tonight I am simply grieving. Grieving that the world has lost a fantastic man today. A man who loves a good laugh, good company and good food. Whose wife loved him endlessly and who will now live on without him. It is sad. So sad. And I may not be in their inner circle of friends and family, but I will pay my respect to him by grieving him in the truest fashion I can. For he deserves to be grieved appropriately.... but this time that appropriateness will be decided by those who grieve him, not the onlookers.

Rest in Peace Andrew, until we meet again.
LG.