Oct 3

 Head span up today at 6.50am. Buzzing away at a million miles per hour it was crunching social problems in a miserable kind of way.

Bit of a revelation. I've realised the highest gear of brainpower I have is when it's slightly miserable. Perhaps it's something to do with "threat". When threatened it switches into highest gear. Must. Solve. Everything. And. Spot. The. Predator.

You know. Primitive impulse brain. That kicks later stage development brain.

Anyway.

My mind focused on the non funeral for my mom.

A long time ago, when I was in my 20's, a good friend of mine and I attended the funeral of a friends daughter. Funerals are sad, this if anything was worse. She was 21 ish. Died of leukemia. A very bright spark. Daughter of two open minded ultra academics, somewhat bohemian, she never got less than acing everything she put her hand to. And as she grew up she decided that was going to be medicine. By 21 however she was gone.

That loss ended up destroying the entire family.

But I digress.

The funeral.

Whilst waiting for the service to begin, me and my friend were talking. My friend confessed he didn't really understand what funerals were about. What was the point ? The person was gone.

The point I said was for everyone else. The closure. A way to remember the person and say goodbye, for everyone at that point in time to take a proper moment to consider their lives, their loss, to comfort each other and then move on - hopefully.

He nodded, but, it didn't connect. He's on the spectrum. Some social stuff can be difficult for him to decode at times.

During the service our friend gave a very touching farewell. He shared his daughters last words of not being able to win this one. And the loss. And his sadness was awful.

My friend, for the first time ever, and the only time since that I know of, burst into tears. It had connected.

Afterwards he said that he understood. 

I still carry that memory with me. As is the way with me, a whole bunch of things I can remember in vivid detail. I can remember the light in the church. I can remember my friend standing at the pulpit. His tears. His wife standing nearby but oddly not truly consoling him. 

But mostly it's the lesson there.

Funerals are not for the person who died. They're gone. They don't give a shit. They can maybe give a wish as to what they want to happen. But really. They have no part in their own funeral. It's the one event thrown for you, that you will never truly attend.

It's for everyone else. Demonstrably. It's for closure. A sign of respect for that person. It's for a shared touchstone moment. It's for support when remembering the saddest of things. It's for maybe celebrating. Moving on. A day where you get to remember.

Of course, the closure and moving on, eh, may or may not work.

But it's something as a species that we have done since the beginning of time. Across geography, cultures, races, it is something that is common. In many forms. But it is there. This isn't a fluke. It's important to how we function and process stuff. About our links to each other and those gone.

And there is none of that for my mom. Both hers and my dads wishes. No fuss.

But no fuss taken to a punishing level. There could be a zen to it. It would need to be a pretty damn high level of peace and zen. That aint what my parents have. It's something else. It's defiance. Fight. The repression of emotion and negative. There is no lesson in there in how to deal with loss apart from just get it over quickly and pretend it didn't happen.

I have realised.

This is the eptiome of my parents. This is how they brought us all up. Bottle up those emotions. Do not deal with shit. Do not think of others. Just think of if it affects you and throttle it. Beat it into submission.

It's why even now my sister is guarded with her emotions. Will not dwell on stuff. Always pushes through with an attempt at positivity. Which. At one level is admirable. But it's a scale. And madness lies somewhere on that line, a refusal to let things truly hurt or deal with shit.

The same goes for my brother. For the longest time the same. But he is unwinding that thread. More open. More understanding. It is slow and hap hazard, but he is changing.

And it was the same for me. Locked down to the last inch. I wasn't even aware what emotions or the like were until my first proper girlfriend just after my teens. Everything that people related to in that space seemed like an alien conversation amongst weak people. I learned fast and my world shifted very quickly however.

So.

My parents wishes. Which is fine. They can do as they choose. Of course.

But this last act. There will be no proper closure of sorts. No coming together and remembering. It will not strengthen bonds. It will be a lesson in ignoring it. Of people having to cope with it on their own. My siblings have already told me the sorrow that it has caused amongst "the kids" ( all now 30 somethings by and large ). But they dont get to come together. And some that are more isolated than others will struggle with that a lot.

You can see the damage done there. Subtly. Reinforcing those old lessons.

I think there is a real crossroads there. You could do something. And have an opportunity to pull the wider family together - something that is really lacking at the moment. Or you could leave it as it is. And let it disperse. No one with a shared moment. All span out in their seperate lives. Dissipated.

To me, the obvious is to bring everyone together. If you want to be positive. And warm. And caring. And save a thing.

But if it's not worth saving. Not really worth caring about. Then let it disperse. Each to their own.

Brutal. But also valid.

My sister was recently telling me about my nieces and nephews. They all show the same thing, in different ways. Shut up. Deal with it. Don't tell.

It was I said, the old school way.

But I haven't been like that with them she said. At least. I don't think so.

I understood.

But I think the latter bit is the key bit. I don't think so. But you have. Subtly. Your own example. They copy you. But also in other ways.

It is the thread of our family I think. That hardcore lack of being able to properly reach out. To always stand in your own two feet. Repress emotions. Just deal with it. An acknowledgement the world is shit, lets just get on with it. There are other ways. Better ways. You can share and help and grow. Not just dig your heels in and endure. Thats my parents way. It has been passed on. And on.

It is dysfunctional. A product of trauma, environment, and how they were raised. The brutality of a world that has long since passed.

Just to make it clear here. I am not denigrating anyone. I have no bad words for anyone. Well. My parents. They could  have done better. But still. They are a product of their environment, and were poorly armed with tools to understand it and change it. It's more of a tragedy overall. A common one.

People are people. Flawed. Dysfunctional. Struggling under their own baggage and scars. I do not blame or judge anyone under that yoke. I feel sad about it. A deep sense of hopelessness. You can see the patterns and how they work. But you can do little about it.

All I can do at worst is empathise. Cant fix. So empathise. Share. Support. Understand. Give out as much love about that as you can.

My words and analysis are not about cutting anyone down to size. But understanding. And in understanding being able to better listen. And at best, maybe even to soothe the suffering a little.

Which is what it's all about.

Reduce the amount of suffering in the world, and, I think, you have done a good thing.

Not an easy path, sometimes unpleasant, and as anything, you are liable to get kicked, spat on and abused. But it's not about that so much. Although that can be the cost. It's about the understanding and easing of pain.

Eh well. Life eh.

Ridiculous.

Her name was Amber Peters. I still think about her. And it is still sad that she went so young. And even more sad that the family disintegrated afterwards. Life can be random and brutal no matter what fancy choices you make. That. Is another important lesson.