This has been a really difficult week and as I sit here on my couch writing this blog I have been mulling over something my BIL's brother said to me this week (for the uninitiated...B.I.L. is short for brother-in-law). He and I caught up this week over a half decent pizza in Clapham to have a natter and for me to return a borrowed suitcase (long boring story). Anyway - he has two boys and he and I were reflecting on some of the things the boys had been up to recently. He shared with me that there was the constant debate in their house when arguments took place with the kids - 'dad - that's just not fair...X got more jelly/chances etc etc than me' (Parents reading this blog will no doubt have countless examples like this in their lives). He then said to me that he was not worried about if things were fair - as long as he treated them equally. It got me thinking.
I cannot remember how many times in my life I have uttered those very words - ...it's just not fair. And it is amazing how one comment, when you are 35 years old, suddenly gives you that lightbulb moment. Life itself is not fair. I grew up in a single parent family where my mom did everything in her power to treat my sister and I equally. But sometimes, it was just not possible to be fair all the time. And when I look back now - I am no worse off for all the 'unfairness' I supposedly had (and neither is my sister for all the 'unfairness' she had either!) In my sisters words - 'I had a cup of cement for breakfast and now it is time to toughen the "bleep" up!
This has been a very unfair week for Bulawayo. A man that all of us loved, partied with, knew from when we were young children, laughed with, joked with, danced with and had generally fun mischevious times with was tragically killed in Tanzania. It just isn't fair I found myself thinking. He and his lovely wife had only been married just over 2 years. Their life together was just beginning. On Thursday when I found out about his death I was absolutely shell-shocked. I spent most of the day in a daze, spoke to my Kedda friend who I have known for the last 22 years of my life and kept replaying the last time I had seen our dear friend alive - Bulawayo, 21 December 2011. Later that evening I had to head over to Clapham Junction for a reflexology appointment. When I arrived at the station, there was this homeless person, completely smashed out of his head, asking people for money. He stopped me and he asked me for change. In that split second all I wanted to do was give him the biggest punch in the face (a startling thing to say, I know)...because in that moment I found myself thinking "seriously - my friend dies and this man gets to live". Now death is not about bargaining and saving one life over another. And I know that. And trust me - my reaction shocked me - I am not a violent person whatsoever. But this is what 'unfairness' does - it creates fierce emotion. It makes you want to have a temper tantrum. Stamp your feet and scream. Pity you can't really do these things when you are 35...otherwise Clapham Junction station may just have seen the biggest temper tantrum in the northern hemisphere on Thursday night.
In this unfair life our friend has gone. I am sad from afar - of that have no doubt. But I also take comfort in the support that comes from the virtual Facebook world. I know FB has its foibles - but without the geographic proximity to keep my tiny Bulawayo community together, FB has a great deal of positivity. One of our friends posted a note today that really gave me some perspective. I paraphrase the note - but the gist of it - our friend died doing what he loved, was passionate about and was exceptionally good at. I found myself thinking - would I be in the same boat if I died tomorrow. The short answer - yes and no. So - I am going to work more on the yes parts and get rid of some of the no parts going forward. I am a firm believer there is a lesson in everything - no matter how bitter the pill to swallow, if you take the lesson from it then you will grow and learn more about yourself.
So as we all say our goodbye's to Wayne Clark over the coming weeks and months it will always seem unfair that he died so young and in the prime of his life. I will never get over that fact. But I will always remember that he treated all people equally. He touched lives just by meeting him with his generous spirit and kind ways. He made us laugh and smile without missing a gentlemanly heartbeat. My life was richer for knowing him. There is definitely a 'Wayne Clark' sized hole in the Bulawayo community now. Hamba Kahle dear friend. Till we meet again x
I cannot remember how many times in my life I have uttered those very words - ...it's just not fair. And it is amazing how one comment, when you are 35 years old, suddenly gives you that lightbulb moment. Life itself is not fair. I grew up in a single parent family where my mom did everything in her power to treat my sister and I equally. But sometimes, it was just not possible to be fair all the time. And when I look back now - I am no worse off for all the 'unfairness' I supposedly had (and neither is my sister for all the 'unfairness' she had either!) In my sisters words - 'I had a cup of cement for breakfast and now it is time to toughen the "bleep" up!
This has been a very unfair week for Bulawayo. A man that all of us loved, partied with, knew from when we were young children, laughed with, joked with, danced with and had generally fun mischevious times with was tragically killed in Tanzania. It just isn't fair I found myself thinking. He and his lovely wife had only been married just over 2 years. Their life together was just beginning. On Thursday when I found out about his death I was absolutely shell-shocked. I spent most of the day in a daze, spoke to my Kedda friend who I have known for the last 22 years of my life and kept replaying the last time I had seen our dear friend alive - Bulawayo, 21 December 2011. Later that evening I had to head over to Clapham Junction for a reflexology appointment. When I arrived at the station, there was this homeless person, completely smashed out of his head, asking people for money. He stopped me and he asked me for change. In that split second all I wanted to do was give him the biggest punch in the face (a startling thing to say, I know)...because in that moment I found myself thinking "seriously - my friend dies and this man gets to live". Now death is not about bargaining and saving one life over another. And I know that. And trust me - my reaction shocked me - I am not a violent person whatsoever. But this is what 'unfairness' does - it creates fierce emotion. It makes you want to have a temper tantrum. Stamp your feet and scream. Pity you can't really do these things when you are 35...otherwise Clapham Junction station may just have seen the biggest temper tantrum in the northern hemisphere on Thursday night.
In this unfair life our friend has gone. I am sad from afar - of that have no doubt. But I also take comfort in the support that comes from the virtual Facebook world. I know FB has its foibles - but without the geographic proximity to keep my tiny Bulawayo community together, FB has a great deal of positivity. One of our friends posted a note today that really gave me some perspective. I paraphrase the note - but the gist of it - our friend died doing what he loved, was passionate about and was exceptionally good at. I found myself thinking - would I be in the same boat if I died tomorrow. The short answer - yes and no. So - I am going to work more on the yes parts and get rid of some of the no parts going forward. I am a firm believer there is a lesson in everything - no matter how bitter the pill to swallow, if you take the lesson from it then you will grow and learn more about yourself.
So as we all say our goodbye's to Wayne Clark over the coming weeks and months it will always seem unfair that he died so young and in the prime of his life. I will never get over that fact. But I will always remember that he treated all people equally. He touched lives just by meeting him with his generous spirit and kind ways. He made us laugh and smile without missing a gentlemanly heartbeat. My life was richer for knowing him. There is definitely a 'Wayne Clark' sized hole in the Bulawayo community now. Hamba Kahle dear friend. Till we meet again x
No comments:
Post a Comment