The following is a scenario that I created during the weekly group tutorial activities set by my tutor. It explicitly deals with bereavement, and it is extremely personal to me, as it is based around the circumstances as to how I lost my brother, Lee. Whilst I have indeed written a piece of life writing centred around the tragic events, I have decided not to publish that full account here. This is primarily to protect our family, his friends and work colleagues. However, this is purely written from the perspective of the angel that sits by my bed:
Cloud number 145789167533333
To all of those I left behind
As I wander between the sliding doors of the countless realms that I once occupied; places familiar to my family and friends, as I sit quietly at the foot of each and every one of your beds, my hand gently resting upon your bedcovers, I think a thousand thoughts to myself. In retrospect, I wish that I could give you the answers that you have all been searching for these last nine years. I wish that I had have had the courage to pick up my phone and answer your panic-stricken calls in the days and hours before my tragic demise.
There’s no rational or logical explanation of the events that took place on that fateful day, or even the night preceding it. To me, that’s all a blur now. I do know, in certainty, that I was weary with all aspects of my life I felt I had no control over. I felt blindsided by immense pain, both physical and mental. I wanted to confront those things that were happening in my life at the time. However, like and Ostrich, I buried my head firmly in the sand and felt comfortably consumed by the cocoon and didn’t want to emerge ever again. Tunnel vision, I believe that’s what they call it around here.
Do I have regrets? It would be safe for you to assume that I have plenty. I wish that I hadn’t carried out such a final act, leaving a tsunami of grief and devastation in my wake. If I had spoken out to any of you, would my actions have changed or would the consequences have remained the same? Looking back, perhaps I was just to proud to deal with my demons.
Love always, Your Lee.
P.S. – The orange flowers that spelt out my name, that was a nice touch baby Sis.