Life, perspective & moments that stop you in your tracks

beks101

Last night the fuse box blew and we had a domestic power cut, rendering the usual Sunday night TV / laptop routine impossible. I found myself sitting by candlelight in my bedroom rummaging through my book shelf for something to read, and happened upon an old diary of mine from seven years ago.

I’ve kept diaries since I was about eleven years old, and this one traced my life during one particular summer spent in San Diego on J1 when I was about 21, a summer of sunshine, booze and spontaneity.

Among the entries was one written in Pacific Beach shortly after we arrived. At this stage we were there about a week and growing increasingly frustrated with the crusty dive of a hostel we were stuck in because of a nightmare house hunt that was going nowhere, and I remember vividly climbing out the back door and up a spiral staircase to the back roof of the hostel, for a cigarette and a quiet moment.

The diary entry ends: “As I write this, some crazy American randomer is waving and screaming at me from his balcony to come join him...sure feck it, why not?”

The “crazy American” was a lovely guy from Oregon, who had been living in SD for a few years, and I spent the night hanging out with him and his flatmates on his deck, smoking and talking shyte about Ireland, how crap Bush was, why Americans feel the need to own a gun, how strict the cops were, the difference between California and Oregon etc etc. Reading over that entry for the first time in years, I suddenly had a vivid picture of him in my head - a slight guy, very cute, glasses, perfect teeth, very friendly and open, brandishing an Irish surname and very proud of his roots.

Being the nosy fecker that I am, naturally I turned to the internet to try to trace what had happened to this guy who I spent this enchanted night talking to many years ago. After a few chance googles, a familiar face popped up.

He was killed in a road rage incident in California almost two years to the day I met him in 2006. An innocent passenger in a taxi, which became the target of some psycho motorist’s violent anger - he was hit on the head as he exited the cab, fell to the ground and died a week later in hospital.

Now, I know - that’s life. You live long enough and I’m sure hearing about the incidental death of an almost-stranger, years after a chance encounter, doesn’t seem all that shocking. But it shook me. I couldn’t stop recalling fragments of our boozy, hazy conversation, him talking about wanting to set up his own business, his smiling face, his totally American, awesome openness to this absolute randomer sitting across the road having a sneaky fag....this youthful, silly, smart, curious guy who is no more.

It’s really made me think. About the usual - how short this life is, how unpredictable, how cruel, how fleeting. About how significant these chance encounters are - significant enough for me to have written his name in my diary and googled him years later. About how significant everything is, and how important people are - not just those you love, but people you may meet for five seconds today during the course of your daily routine. How important it is to connect with people. How much we rush through life, taking things for granted, racing to our future, when it’s not guaranteed to any of us.

About how that guy made my night and I never forgot that.

So I guess this is a long-winded, stream-of-consciousness-y way of asking: have you ever had such a moment? Something that stopped you in your tracks and made your day-to-day problems pale in comparison? A moment that put something greater, something larger in focus about life and its fragility? What's the greatest dose of perspective you've ever been given, and how has it helped you?

That's a beautiful read beks

Liam McPoyle

beks101 wrote: »

Last night the fuse box blew and we had a domestic power cut, rendering the usual Sunday night TV / laptop routine impossible. I found myself sitting by candlelight in my bedroom rummaging through my book shelf for something to read, and happened upon an old diary of mine from seven years ago.

I’ve kept diaries since I was about eleven years old, and this one traced my life during one particular summer spent in San Diego on J1 when I was about 21, a summer of sunshine, booze and spontaneity.

Among the entries was one written in Pacific Beach shortly after we arrived. At this stage we were there about a week and growing increasingly frustrated with the crusty dive of a hostel we were stuck in because of a nightmare house hunt that was going nowhere, and I remember vividly climbing out the back door and up a spiral staircase to the back roof of the hostel, for a cigarette and a quiet moment.

The diary entry ends: “As I write this, some crazy American randomer is waving and screaming at me from his balcony to come join him...sure feck it, why not?”

The “crazy American” was a lovely guy from Oregon, who had been living in SD for a few years, and I spent the night hanging out with him and his flatmates on his deck, smoking and talking shyte about Ireland, how crap Bush was, why Americans feel the need to own a gun, how strict the cops were, the difference between California and Oregon etc etc. Reading over that entry for the first time in years, I suddenly had a vivid picture of him in my head - a slight guy, very cute, glasses, perfect teeth, very friendly and open, brandishing an Irish surname and very proud of his roots.

Being the nosy fecker that I am, naturally I turned to the internet to try to trace what had happened to this guy who I spent this enchanted night talking to many years ago. After a few chance googles, a familiar face popped up.

He was killed in a road rage incident in California almost two years to the day I met him in 2006. An innocent passenger in a taxi, which became the target of some psycho motorist’s violent anger - he was hit on the head as he exited the cab, fell to the ground and died a week later in hospital.

Now, I know - that’s life. You live long enough and I’m sure hearing about the incidental death of an almost-stranger, years after a chance encounter, doesn’t seem all that shocking. But it shook me. I couldn’t stop recalling fragments of our boozy, hazy conversation, him talking about wanting to set up his own business, his smiling face, his totally American, awesome openness to this absolute randomer sitting across the road having a sneaky fag....this youthful, silly, smart, curious guy who is no more.

It’s really made me think. About the usual - how short this life is, how unpredictable, how cruel, how fleeting. About how significant these chance encounters are - significant enough for me to have written his name in my diary and googled him years later. About how significant everything is, and how important people are - not just those you love, but people you may meet for five seconds today during the course of your daily routine. How important it is to connect with people. How much we rush through life, taking things for granted, racing to our future, when it’s not guaranteed to any of us.

About how that guy made my night and I never forgot that.

So I guess this is a long-winded, stream-of-consciousness-y way of asking: have you ever had such a moment? Something that stopped you in your tracks and made your day-to-day problems pale in comparison? A moment that put something greater, something larger in focus about life and its fragility? What's the greatest dose of perspective you've ever been given, and how has it helped you?

Easily in the top 10 posts I've ever seen on Boards, thank you for sharing.

clairefontaine

Thank you so much for that. You are golden. That was heart searing.

I think 911 would have done that for me, as it did nearly everyone.

But on a smaller scale, I found my friends biological mother for him. He looked for years, he went to Bernardoa, he hired a PI. I found her in the Dublin white pages.

I earned their eternal gratitude. They were both kissing my ass for this minor effort. It felt so undeserved because all I did was look her up in the phone book after going tomJoyce house and doing a bit of research. Any monkey could have done it. I had to stop meeting with them and kept my distance for a while because it felt so undeserved.

Anyhow, they were delighted but only for a little while. My friend died four months later of organ failure, leaving a wife and two year old son behind. His mother lost him twice, and I just often think had I not looked her up in the phone book, she may have never met him, she may have one day years later looked for him, only to find he had died. This woman lost her son twice. It's still something I can't quite process even 15 years later. How could a universe be that cruel. But it is.

I suppose why this upsets me, is the randomness of life, the cruelties that come with its gifts.

Sauve

I had a moment like that during the summer, totally floored me but in a lovely way.
Was down in Clare doing the Tour de Burren cycle. About halfway along a man in his fifties pulled up alongside me for a chat, nothing unusual there, the usual 'jesus I'm wrecked' banter.
We got to chatting anyway, and I recognised his accent from where I lived as a small kid. After a bit of digging, he suddenly said "Is your surname Kelly*?"

Turns out he was an old friend of my Dads, who died when we were kids, and was able to remember loads of stuff about my mam, siblings, and had a couple of good stories to tell too. I don't know who got the bigger land that day, me or him!
Out of 800-odd people on a cycle at the other end of the country, he chose me to pull up alongside. Weird, but lovely all the same

baby and crumble

I suppose a lot of people will cite the death of a loved one as something that made them think, and in all honesty I'm no different. I have lost a number of people in my life, but two made me just sit and wonder.

My Mum was my best friend, and she didn't make it to 60. She died nearly 5 years ago, and it still hurts. I'm dreading my next graduation ceremony, for lots of reasons. She died thinking I was going to get a PhD, but I had to write it up as an M. Litt instead- it all got too much for me. I'm going to be so annoyed that she didn't see me graduate from it, but also so disappointed in myself that it wasn't what it was supposed to be. But that's another thread... But looking into her eyes for the last time before she died. Man, that sh*t stays with you. To this day I see women my age and older with their Mothers and it's horrible. Especially when I hear people complain about 'having' to spend time with them. I get so unbelievably angry about it. Every time I hear someone say that I have to hold myself back from shouting at them that they have no idea how lucky they are.

But at least it's natural for us to bury our parents... old people get sick and die, that's how it goes. But earlier this year I watched my best friend since we were kids bury her eldest son a week before his 7th birthday. I cannot express how much that hit me. It's just not normal, you know? 6 year olds aren't meant to get sick, aren't meant to have massive inoperable brain tumours ffs! And you get these idiots who ruin peoples lives by selling drugs, beating their partners, raping people... these people live to like, 90! But when you hear your best friend in bits on the phone... It makes you want to do anything to help, but there's nothing you can do. Not really.

Sorry, I don't really know if that fits into the spirit of the thread... it's just what popped into my head.

B0jangles

Just wanted to say that I think this is a great idea for a thread and the stories told so far have been amazing and bloody heartbreaking .

Asbury Park

What a wonderful thread Beks, thanks for starting:

Mine would be more recent. Back in March, I was visiting a friend in Donegal. So we were walking out onto a beach and when we reached the shore, I was looking right across at another beach I had visited with my ex 2 years previously, shortly before I broke up with her. It was like I met myself that day – I can’t describe the feeling accurately enough, but it was so intense. And I suddenly remembered how my ex took photos of that day and posted them to Facebook and one in particular was me walking away from her into the distance – a metaphor if ever there was one for what was about to happen.



I’ve spent most of the time since we broke up regretting what I did but that day prompted me to finally start taking a long, hard look at my life and I’ve learnt more about myself in the past few months than in any other period of my life. I’ve had to face up to the knowledge that I’ve run out on almost everything in my life, shunning commitment and retreating into myself, and how that has to change if I’m ever to achieve what I know I’m capable of, professionally and personally. I wish I could have frozen that moment on the beach in 2011 and kept things the way they were, but that’s not possible of course. I used to think my ex was the only one who ever had any faith in me (and she did, which is why she fought so hard for us to stay together) but I know now that she’s one of so many to have seen in me what I’m only beginning to see for myself.

Ambersky

Yes a death can really get you thinking about the meaning of this one short life and the preciousness of the people you meet in it.
My father died last year of motor neuron disease, a slow debilitating illness that takes away the use of your muscles and limbs but leaves you fully aware.
We had a complex relationship my father and I, in some ways he was ahead of his time and in others ways he had a very old fashioned relationship with the women in his life. This strong, dominant man who had always been in control was now relying on us to feed him, scratch him and generally cater for his every need. It’s not an easy change of relationship for anyone involved and the usual clichés of “you will never regret it, or isn’t he a dote, or people are always better off in their own home” don’t quite fit what was actually happening. It was deep and hard and sweet and bitter at times, but also very profound.
One day while we were at the kitchen table the next door neighbour came in and told us her dog had just died. My mother’s dog had just died a few weeks before and my father’s dog only had a few more weeks to live.
My father started talking about how he used to bring his dog for a walk every day and the neighbour’s dog always ran to the gate to say hello to them.
My father remembering all this and laughing said “Timmy would say Woof Woof and then Sam would say Woof Woof” he chuckled to himself and said
“they were the good times……
who knew they were the good times!”
and then he sobbed.
Of all the things he said to me at that time that event spoke to me most deeply about my own mortality and the importance and preciousness of the everyday little events and relationships.

Digs

Gorgeous thread.

You all have a beautiful way with words, such a gift to have.

Ambersky

I said in my last post that my father died last year. Actually the first anniversary of his death is in two days time. If you bear with me, long poster that I am, Id like to post a poem that says a lot to me and maybe to some of you.

Lucky
If you are lucky in this life,
you will get to help your enemy
the way I got to help my mother
when she was weakened past the point of saying no.

Into the big enamel tub
half-filled with water
which I had made just right,
I lowered the childish skeleton
she had become

Her eyelids fluttered as I soaped and rinsed
her belly and her chest,
the sorry ruin of her flanks
and the frayed gray cloud
between her legs.

Some nights, sitting by her bed
book open in my lap
while I listened to the air
move thickly in and out of her dark lungs,
my mind filled up with praise
as lush as music,

amazed at the symmetry and luck
that would offer me a chance to pay
my heavy debt of punishment and love
with love and punishment.

And once I held her dripping wet
in the uncomfortable air
between the wheelchair and the tub,
until she begged me like a child

to stop,
an act of cruelty which we both understood
was the ancient irresistible rejoicing
of power over weakness.

If you are lucky in this life,
you will get to raise the spoon
of pristine, frosty ice cream
to the trusting creature mouth
of your old enemy

because the tastebuds at least are not broken
because there is a bond between you
and sweet is sweet in any language.

Tony Hoagland

Femme_Fatale

Met a guy nine years ago in his early 30s who had been struck down in his late 20s by seriously degenerative multiple sclerosis. One of these guys who seemed to have it all: the brains, talent, charisma, looks, irresistible attractiveness. Means nowt without your health...

No way would he allow it to keep him down though - he still kept that zest for life: returned to college, volunteered, wrote articles, and socialised.

Eventually the cruel disease consumed him to the point where he could do none of the above anymore, and the physical and emotional pain had to cease for him. So he ended his life with the help of Dignitas. It was obviously a massively difficult decision, but it was the right one for him - and hugely brave.

beks101

Wow. Some amazing stories, thanks for sharing.

I've become a lot more philosophical in my approach to life in the last few years, maybe since living a hectic life abroad so far away from family and friends, and realizing, with time, that those seemingly trivial little moments you share with friends or strangers in new places, are the ones that retrospectively bring you most joy. As per Ambersky's father's words: "those were the good times...who knew those were the good times!"

I'm at home now a short few weeks, planning my next jaunt overseas, and where the Beks101 of a few short years ago would be losing the head right about now, freaking out over what happens next, where I'll end up and how long I'll be "stuck" in what is comparatively a small town in terms of what I've become accustomed to...every single day has brought with it a memory that I know I'll cherish forever as I get older. Going for lunch with my Dad, helping my Mum to pick out an outfit for work, cooking dinner for everyone, sharing pictures from Canada, bringing the dog for a walk, going to a play with my folks, aRsing up and down the country catching up with friends...things that I haven't had time to do for at least a decade. These are the things that will always make me smile, these are the things that make me a lucky human being.

I still can't stop thinking about my poor old American friend, all those hopes and dreams that disintegrated into nothing because of one stroke of extreme misfortune. How if he had waited five minutes for another cab, if the driver had being going two miles slower, if he hadn't gotten out of the cab when he did, if if if...there but for the grace of God I guess. It's just so unfair.

clairefontaine

It makes me wonder why ostensibly random people, or not so random even, are brought into our livesand us into theirs. Whatever moments in the passing of life seem arbitrary, it reminds me anyway, that everything counts, we may not just get it at the time.

itac

Deaths of people I care for have probably had the biggest impact on my life, both friends and family. When I was 15, I saw my friend across a street on Christmas Eve 1998, hadn't seen him for a bit, and was going to shout across to him, but he looked in heavy conversation, so I left it. He and his brother drowned that night, and the memories of taking the phonecall on Christmas day to tell me he was dead and the horrible grief and loss that followed will never ever leave. Another was the passing of a friend 3 years ago, being in the hospice with him shortly after he was given his last rites. Heartbreaking.

My Dad is 74, and fairly fit and healthy for his age, but his older (and only) brother died suddenly two years ago. He and his brother weren't all that close, but Dad still looked up to him and would've done anything for him.My Dad is very much of the older generation, he doesn't say "I love you", he just tries to show you in whatever way he can. During the funeral, as he read, one of the lines was "no matter what happens, always be thankful" I had my head down as he read and he paused. I thought "that's such a lovely sentiment. Dad must be letting that resonate with people.." and then I looked up. He was barely holding back the tears, just so silent, so still, looking down at his brothers coffin. I have never wanted so much in my life to run up and hug him as much as I did then. He composed himself and carried on with the reading, but that was the first time I ever saw him get that emotional. As we left the graveyard, I hugged him, and for the first time ever, I said "I love you." He just clutched at me while hugging me and said "i love you too." It was the first (and probably the only!) time in 30 years he's said it to me. Our relationship has changed for the better so much over the last few years, and I am so so thankful for that, and to have had the time to realise what a wonderful guy he is.

On a peripheral people note Beks, I can totally get where you're coming from...I worked with a guy in the uk years ago, and reading the paper one day a while after we'd finished working together, read that his sister-in-law murdered her 2 sons in the States. I'd met her when the first boy was born, she seemed kooky, but lovely. She thought the boys were possessed by demons, and so killed them. She was declared not guilty due to insanity and placed in psychiatric care in the states. I hadn't thought of her for years, and then last year, she popped into my head, and I thought I'd see if she'd been released or there'd been any progress on her. It seems that shortly after she was released, she disappeared. Everyone assumed she'd gone to make a new start somewhere or suchlike, but she'd actually driven over a canyon, her body was only found a few years ago. When I remember this pregnant kooky hippy type mum, sitting in the restaurant with this giggly baby, and a doting dad, and my lovely colleague raving about his cute wee nephew,how he can't wait to know if he'll have a new niece or nephew, and then I think of how it ended up, it breaks my heart.

Peripheral people may only drift into your life for a day or two, but the memories they create can stay forever. Thanks for starting this thread Beks. Big hugs, I hope you'll be able to look back on your time with that dude with happy thoughts soon,xx

nkay1985

I think it's obvious from this thread, if it wasn't already obvious, that there's something in the human psyche that causes death to give us pause. I'm no different.

At Easter this year, myself and my wife were just finished dinner in her parents' house and were having a chat. Her phone rang and it was one of our friends who we knew was, along with another friend, on a visit to one of the other girls in Scotland. The call was to inform us that our friend had died that morning. They were making their way up to her apartment and she didn't balance right on a step or whatever and fell in over the bannister and down to the bottom floor.

The following week was just mental. That group of friends would be pretty big - 9 or 10 including partners - so they all gathered in our house over the nest few days. We all shared our favourite stories of our departed friend, had the chat and most of the time behaved as we always did but every now and again the whole place would fall silent as something someone said would cause everyone to reflect.

She was an amazing girl. Smart, funny, goofy, caring. She'd just embarked on a new career path. She was with a nice guy. She liked where she lived. Had good friends there as well as those of us at home and one misstep put an end to all of that.

As sad as it is, in a funny way it's brought everyone else closer together. We've seen each other more in the past 6 months than ever before. We make sure to Skype our friends who can't be with us.

The whole thing didn't make me re-evaluate my life or anything but it did make me appreciate the fact that you must appreciate the little things. Our friend was over the Christmas before she died and we were all meeting up on the 27th but I met her in town Christmas Eve and we stopped. She had a big hug and a bigger smile. I'm glad I didn't walk on by that day thinking "sure I'll see her in a couple of days". I'm going to try to think like that as much as I can.

Legs.Eleven

Itac your post made me cry this morning just before my students came into class. Had to wipe away the auld tears and before they came in. Sap!


Like others here, the death of my mother when I was 10 gave me a taste of mortality at a young age, so I've always been acutely aware just how fleeting life is and how it can be taken from you in an instant. It conflicts on a fundamental level with what you tend to believe as a child that life is never-ending when at the time, months felt like years and years like centuries (remember the wait between birthdays and counting halves and quarters as part of your age in order to make time go by quicker?) and it took a long, long time to get my head round the fact that she wasn't coming back. The finality of it took a long time to get to grips with.

The death of my boyfriend's dad this year brought back a lot of those old feelings. I remember visiting him in Seville 2 years ago and commenting on how healthy he looked and asking him what the secret to his longevity and youthful looks was (part of it was trying to butter up the new boyfriend's dad as well, of course!) and he told me on how he lived his life. He seemed so full of vitality at that time playing with his grand-daughter who he really adored, decorating the house for Christmas (his wife had passed away 6 years before that), going for walks with us and having beers and tapas in the sunshine. We didn't know at the time his body was riddled with cancer and he'd be dead in a years time.

Watching my boyfriend go through the passed two years (he died in February this year) was so tough. You just want to make the pain go away for the person you love but you can't. It's a harsh reality all of us have to face in life. His mam had died in her sleep 6 years ago suddenly and the injustice of it to see him suffer again so soon after really hit me hard and reminded me of my own loss. This sense of loss is something we both share and I suppose in the past year, we've both been going through our own existential crises as a result and we both realise now just how important to seize life for all it's worth because you only get one shot at it.

To be honest, my career and obtaining "things" has never been important to me and I was never particularly academic either but I think in recent years I've let go of a lot of grudges and pent up feelings and bitterness I've held on to over the year and realised what wasted energy it all is and how it doesn't suit me. This quote by Huxley really resonates with me:

“It is a bit embarrassing to have been concerned with the human problem all one's life and find at the end that one has no more to offer by way of advice than 'try to be a little kinder”

That'll be my mantra until I die and if I live by that, I know I won't regret anything.

tomthetank

the death of young people always gives me those "stopped in my tracks" moments, i just can never seem to reconcile why it happens.

and the thing is, you never know who it's going to happen to - i've lost young, bright, beautiful friends and acquaintances over the years who were in the prime of life, healthy, happy, full of life...and suddenly they're gone. it makes those small moments that seem meaningless all the more important - as it's always those moments you linger on when the person has passed. it makes it all the more pertinent to be kind, and generous with your time with absolutely everyone who crosses your path. because you never know if you will ever see them again.

Ilyana 2.0

Gosh, these posts are so powerful.

Probably the most traumatic time for my family was my uncle's death from cancer three years ago, when he was only 57. He was a wonderful man, always giving time to help other people, and raised three fantastic kids. His death was a drawn-out affair; he died two months after we were told to say goodbye.

I'll never forget visiting him in the palliative care ward, a shell of a man whose hair had turned white in a matter of months. My mum had told me not to cry when I saw him, in case I upset him. I sucked it up, until he took my hand and congratulated me on my Leaving Cert results (I'd only just gotten them). The thought of a dying man even remembering that sent me over the edge and I had to leave the room.

At his funeral, I was asked to carry his Beatles anthology during the offertory while his daughter did the reading. All of a sudden, she let out this huge wail that echoed everywhere; I burst into tears on the spot and had to be ushered up to the altar. It hit me that no matter how upset I was, what she and her siblings were going through was absolutely devastating.

It was a horrendous time for us all, but it really brought home to me how, when something bad happens, you're not the only one who's suffering, and people need to be there for each other. And equally, we need to let others help us, even when we want to run away from it all.

Digs

Can't believe I am posting this

I am sitting in Crumlin hospital watching my 7 month old daughter sleep while hooked up to IV antibiotics and fluids. Today has been the most horrific day of my life and I genuinely don't think I will be the same person after it., probably for the better.

While we don't quite know what's wrong yet about 7 hours ago we were looking at meningitis swiftly followed by a brain tumour. I have never been so frightened as I have been today nor have I ever gained so much perspective in such a short amount of time. There were times today I literally felt like my heart had stopped beating from fear.

While tests results are really positive and the original nasties have been for the most part ruled out today was one of those stop you in your tracks days for me and I get the meaning of time standing still.....on our way up to the ultrasound department while carrying my precious girl I had this overwhelming urge to scream at people who were laughing, what could possibly be funny at a time like this?????

My daughter WILL be fine and when we leave here with her my perspective on life, people and the blessings I have will never be the same again.

wiz569

Digs wrote: »

Can't believe I am posting this

I am sitting in Crumlin hospital watching my 7 month old daughter sleep while hooked up to IV antibiotics and fluids. Today has been the most horrific day of my life and I genuinely don't think I will be the same person after it., probably for the better.

While we don't quite know what's wrong yet about 7 hours ago we were looking at meningitis swiftly followed by a brain tumour. I have never been so frightened as I have been today nor have I ever gained so much perspective in such a short amount of time. There were times today I literally felt like my heart had stopped beating from fear.

While tests results are really positive and the original nasties have been for the most part ruled out today was one of those stop you in your tracks days for me and I get the meaning of time standing still.....on our way up to the ultrasound department while carrying my precious girl I had this overwhelming urge to scream at people who were laughing, what could possibly be funny at a time like this?????

My daughter WILL be fine and when we leave here with her my perspective on life, people and the blessings I have will never be the same again.

Hope she's well enough to come home soon,you will both be in my prayers tonight

Frito

Fingers crossed for your daughter Digs, hope she recovers quickly and without complications. I'm pleased tests so far are positive.

That time thing, when mam was diagnosed with a tumour, it sped up for me. In fact, it went so fast it caught up then overtook itself. I remember thinking that if I had been there at the big bang, it would have felt like this; having the past, present and future coexist in one moment...to have so much potential in this moment that [the moment] would burst. I can't say it's changed my outlook the way other posters have described but I won't forget it.

Daisies

I've had the moments from deaths that have given me a new perspective. Most notably when my cousin died from a brain hemorrhage at 19. But I've decided to tell a more recent event that gave me a new outlook.

I've been living and working in Malawi for 18 months now. Malawi is the poorest non war torn country in the world. Here education is not a given and most people live on less than $1 a day. In my first month here I got to attend the university graduation and the outpouring of emotion was something that shocked me. Parents were running up to their children as they received their degrees, shouting with joy. For many of the graduating students they were the first in their family to receive a university education. It really is a cliche but education is one of the only ways out of poverty. For many of the families the graduation was the proudest moment in their lives.

It really made me think about how fortunate we are in Ireland where secondary (and to a certain extent tertiary) education is a given. It is assumed that you will have a certain level of education and there are apprenticeships and options. Here, if you do not go to a good secondary school (determined from exams taken in your last year in primary school), you have NO options.

tl:dr Education is a privilege not a right

Dortilolma

This is such a touching thread, I've been teary eyed since starting it.

I'm afraid I can't add my own tale but I would like to tell everyone it has been an experience just reading your stories.


Digs, I can't even begin to imagine what you must be going through but you and your family will be in my thoughts.

Bonnie2

Wow, such powerful stories.

Mine is definitely not as amazing as the ones shared here but I'll still say it!

Last summer, I was working in Germany. It was horrible. I got extremely depressed, was ridiculously homesick and hated every minute of it. Anyway, I went out one day to the city to meet my friends who had come from Ireland to visit me. However, in retrospect I think it done more harm than good. On the train back to my accommodation that night, I was immersed in a cycle of horrible thoughts- how I was ugly, how I wanted to binge eat, how I was fat, how I would never have a boyfriend, how I had a terrible personality, how I was a burden to people, etc. I noticed a boy sitting a few seats away from me, and I remember thinking to myself that he was the most gorgeous boy I'd seen in ages, and took the time to remind myself that I would never get a boy like him because I was so undesirable. Anyway, people kept getting off at their stops until it was just me and the boy left in the carriage. He moved seats and sat directly opposite me. For the few more stops that remained, he just sat there, he took out his earphones and simply watched me. However, I barely noticed because I was too busy filling my head with ridiculous things and mentally beating myself up.

Anyway, this continued until the boy's stop came and he stood up to get off. Suddenly, he tapped me on my knee. I looked up- I barely even knew where I was anymore because my head was so all over the place. Then, the boy looked at me and said- 'Excuse me, I find you magnificent,' in German, and quietly got off the train. He walked past the window, gave me a wave and walked off. I never seen him again, but he had such an effect on me.

It was exactly what I needed- I suddenly realised that maybe I wasn't all THAT bad, if this stranger that I had never met, decided to say something like that to me. It was so simple, and I know it sounds so stupid but I wish I could thank him! It made my year.

Goldenlady

Wow this is a great powerful thread.

A life changing moment for me happened about 14 years ago. I had just finished college and started a new job that summer. Became very friendly with a guy in work, who was similar age to me. The summer before my mom had a brain haemorrhage & was still in hospital as it completely paralysed her from the neck down. I was only 20 at the time and felt I had gone through so much, but this guy was a good listener and we became solid friends. About three months into the job, a few of us went for a drink after work on a Friday evening. He was driving us so wasn't drinking. He wanted a few of us to head down to a part of Cork that night, said he would drive us & we could drink. I would have always been up for anything spur of the moment, but my mom was in rehab in Dublin and I was heading up to see her the next day so I didn't go.
I spent the weekend in Dublin and returned to Cork late on the Sunday evening.... This was really pre mobile phones, so I hadn't been in touch with any one all week end, but I looked at the local paper when I came home that night and it showed a terrible crash from the Friday night. It was my friends car, I nearly collapsed reading the paper. He had basically dropped me home and within 20 minutes a drunk driver had crashed into him & he had died instantly - I suppose this was a moment that changed my life.
I so could have been in that car, if my mom hadn't been sick I certainly would have been in it.
I was in my late teens then, and I truly believe since then Ive a good outlook on life. I try to enjoy things as much as I can. I try not to let little things get me down. I realise that life is for living, sometimes its sad it takes the loss of someone else to realise that.

r3nu4l

Digs, i hope your daughter recovers fully. Best of luck to you all!

I know most of the stories here have been about death and illness and I have my own fair share of those too but I wanted to talk about life for a minute too.

A moment that stopped me in my tracks was in the first few minutes after the birth of my daughter. The moment she entered the world my entire life changed and I got that. It really hits home to you when you hold this completely innocent and completely dependent life in your arms that you are entirely responsible for the person they will become.

It's not only my job to feed her and clothe her but to help her to make sense of a world that sometimes makes no sense whatsoever and to guide her moral compass to help her become a decent human being. Until the day I die, my role is to support her and to be there for her even at the times when she thinks she doesn't need me and at the times when she has done something so monumentally stupid or dangerous that I'm angry with her...I still have to find a way to support her. That's a massive responsibility!

In the last few months I have been working extremely hard, some weeks up to 75 hours a week. About three weeks ago I was in the middle of something one evening and she asked me to play a game with her (she's 3 and a half) and I said 'Not now darling, Daddy's too busy'.

That stopped me in my tracks again. I swore to myself the night she was born that I would never, ever allow myself to be the kind of Dad who tells his kids he's too busy to spend time with them. So as soon as I said it I stood up, put my computer to sleep and said to her 'I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that, let's play!'. We played for a while, I put her to bed, read her story and then went downstairs and back to work. I can't believe I almost put her second to my work like that. A good wake up call for me.

Then there's the way the death of someone you know stops you in your tracks...

My own Mum died in September of a neurological disease called multiple system atrophy (MSA). The disease symptoms are like a cross between Parkinson's disease and Motor Neurone disease. It's an unrelenting, untreatable disease with no remission. It took her speech, her swallow reflex and her ability to move at all. Her mind remained entirely active all the time but she couldn't communicate or use a motorised wheelchair to get around. The disease is also characterised by massive drops in blood pressure upon movement, so if she was lifted from bed to a wheelchair she would pass out and there was a real danger of death for her from that alone.

She was diagnosed at the age of 60 in late 2011 and was hospitalised in July this year and died in September. I managed to see her three weeks before her death, when we all flew home for a week. My last words to her were 'I love you Mam, we'll see you again at Christmas'. The strange thing is that I had a real sense that I wouldn't see her at Christmas and the week after I came home my wife and I chatted and I said that I'd like to book flights to go home and see her again. So I booked my flights to come home on September 24th and said I'd call my Dad on Saturday evening to tell him. It was Saturday afternoon when I got the call from my Dad to say that she had died. I'm glad I told her I loved her and glad that at least I had an inkling that I should try to see her again soon, even if I didn't get to do that.

Quite a few things about her death struck me as poignant and perception altering. She died on a Saturday at 14.25. At the time she was dying myself, my wife and my daughter were at our kitchen table, here in England, baking chocolate cookies. I was putting the cookies in the oven when the phone rang and I got the news. My Mum would have loved the fact that we were doing something so homely, together as a family. I was really happy that that's what we had been doing at the time and it made me reconfirm a goal I set myself this year to make sure that we did a memorable family event every weekend this year.

The second thing that struck me was that my Mum's mother (My gran) had celebrated her 90th birthday three weeks before Mum died and here she was burying her own child who had only been in her early 60s. That must have been so hard on my gran who is still probably thinking 'Why am I still here?'.

Then of course there was my daughter who over the past 3 years has steadily seen her Gran's (my Mum's) conditioning worsening. We only fly home about 4 times a year so each time she came home she saw a new progression in her Gran. First she was walking very slowly, then talking strangely, then not being able to stand on her own, then having a wheelchair, then not being able to lift her hand or move her head and finally just lying in a bed in hospital, alive but unable to communicate. So to complete the circle and close things off we decided to let her see the body and see people crying at the wake. That's when my parenting responsibilities came into play and when she told me she was sad, I told her it was okay to be sad and that I was sad too. Since then we've explored death and talked about living and dying and thankfully she isn't obsessed with it but again, as a parent it's really opened my mind as to the enormous impact my words, actions and inactions have on my daughter.

EDIT: I just realised that today is 2 months since my Mum died...21st...RIP. <--Doesn't do justice to how I feel.

CathyMoran

My mother had a massive brain haemorrage a few years ago. We were never close but I stayed with her overnight with the hope of the surgery in the morning if she survived. She was conscious some time, it was the last time that i spoke to her before the severe brain damage set in. The sad thing is that my mother and I had been working out that issues until that point...She had the surgery but was never the same and took a turn for the worse a few weeks before my daughter was born, I had to keep myself calm for my daughter but it was scary not knowing if she would still be alive when I gave birth. The pregnancy was very high risk so I could not even see her (and I ended up in hospital myself around the same time with pregnancy related issues) and my daughter was too small to see my mum so they never met, my mother died just after my daughter was born.

2006 a bagle stuck in my throat on my grandmother's 100th birthday. My granny died 2 weeks later and I was with her when she died. The swallowing got worse but doctors did not listen. In June my wedding plans went into breakdown but we tried to see what we could do and he went away to his brother's wedding without me (it was abroad) The break was what we needed and we were on the phone several times a day...at the same time I finally saw a gastroenerologist and once tests were done it was confirmed that I had oesophageal cancer. My husband and I married 3 months later, 2 weeks post chemo and I waited for the surgery in 2007.

The 6 miscarriages that my husband and I had were heartbreaking. We got pregnant again and my husband and I got more pregnancy tests and birthd control and got strange looks - he is 3.5 now and lights up my life along with his sister born less than 14 months later.

My life is still busy!

Diggs I hope that your daughter gets better soon.

^^Cathy, seriously, wow.

You're an embodiment of the ability of the human spirit to prevail against the odds.

I hope life is a whole lot smoother sailing these days.

Digs

Thank you so much for your good wishes!

Our beautiful girl is going to be absolutely fine, I feel like I can breathe again. She has viral meningitis so a much much happier outcome than was first suspected. Her little body has been through the mill with MRI, lumbar puncture but we are just unbelievably relieved.

The staff of crumlin hospital were amazing and given the symptoms she went in with didn't miss a beat so we can't thank them enough but I genuinely hope we never have to go near this building once she's ready to go home. We are one of the lucky ones, some people in here aren't and that's something I will never take for granted again.

Massive thanks to the original poster of this thread. When I wrote my original post it was one of the darkest hours of my life and being able to write down how I was feeling at the time was really therapeutic and gave me strength.

pampootie

It's funny, I saw this thread and the first thing that popped into my head was caring for my mum as she died when I was 16. While it shaped me as a person hugely, I actually think my day job affords me more perspective on life overall.

I work as a pharmacist. Every single day I meet people who are so phenomenally strong in the face of horrible situations, while going about their normal lives. People with cancer. Couples who can't concieve, despite month after month of drugs and procedures and clinics. People who have family members dying. Anorexics, schizophrenics, addicts, the works.

When my mum died I went through a whole hedonistic phase of "well, I'll die anyway so I'll experience everything I can" but now I see the value in how my mum lived her life and try to live the same way. Before she died she said she was happy because she did as much as she could for her family and friends for as long as she could. If you can say that at the end of your days it's a life well lived