breathe. just breathe.

grief.
it can overwhelm, drowning you like a wave and you feel like you might never break through the surface to gulp down air.
breathe.
just breathe.

my father's hand starts to shake first.
the shake grows up his arm
i turn my head slightly
his lip quivers
tears roll down his cheeks
where is he lost?
in memories of a sister when she was younger?
in memories of all that has transpired since?
loss
3 left
a family begins with 10
3 left

i take his hand in mine
when did this change?
when did the daughter take the hand in strength rather than the other way round?
i tell myself
breathe
just breathe
 

yesterday i went to my aunt's funeral and i stood like an observer watching people and watching their manifestations of grief. i saw family members i had not seen for a long time -people who looked as familiar as me and yet who grow unknown as we all get older. another aunt kisses me and tells me i haven't changed a bit. it must be at least 10 years since i've seen her - surely i've changed in that time, but we were not here for a family catch up but rather to say goodbye to one of us.

time and distance had meant I hadn't seen my aunt for a while and the hours we'd spent around that part of the family as small children had been eked out into longer and longer distances of time between visits. the last time i'd seen her was 2 years ago when i'd taken my parents to visit while i was working in her town for the day.

i was uncomfortable then.
we stopped at her house and everything was smaller, older, and grubbier. 
the room was too hot, too dirty, too decaying and she was slumped in a chair and couldn't remember me as the little girl she'd seen years and years before. there was no where to sit as every surface was covered in the detritus of a life long lived. flies crawled on discarded food and i couldn't breathe. i couldn't invest in it emotionally - i had nothing to give her - my time wasn't available to her and so i walked out the door and back into my own life. yesterday i looked at a photo of her from years before and wondered when it was that she ceased to be that person- perhaps sometime long before, like katrina in bruce dawe's poem she had been 'suspended between earth and sky'. the priest said something that made me think of that and a glimmer of light moved between the stained glass windows.

i watched her children. separated from each other they couldn't bear to be in the same space in the church. one slumped over a seat, grief had knocked the air from her lungs. the other chain smoked outside, a lost, listless look in his eyes. he couldn't wait for the day to be over and for the rest of his life as an orphan to begin. cast adrift in your 60s with no parent to hold your hand. there are stories for each of them. they are not my stories to tell. only they know the secrets in their souls and what led them to this point. they grieve for different things and for different reasons.

the cemetery is perched on a windy hill and overlooks the sea. the sky turned black and the wind was howling when we arrived. people sheltered under umbrellas that flipped inside out and the rain pelted against us. suits became darker with rain and shirts transparent. I stood beside the son under an umbrella. his arm shook and he struggled to keep it upright. he turned away from the grave, a vacant look in his eyes. he turned to me and spoke,  'let's get this over with'. with nothing to keep him anchored to the earth the wind could have picked him up and carried him away.

my father faltered. he moved towards the grave. he stepped back. my mother took his arm and he said 'i'll say goodbye from here'. he could move no closer. we almost ran back to the car, to the warmth, the dry and to the rest of our lives.i hugged them both tighter when i left to come home. i squeezed tightly to keep the memory of that hug in a corner of my brain.

today i feel like a bit of dried up chip.
i grieve for all that has gone before me-  the childhood memories i let slip out of my mind, pushed out by mindless trivia and the moments we don't realise are precious until they are gone.
breathe
just breathe