Soul Stripped Bare

I greeted the police with an ignorance born out of years of living without incident, years of living a blessed life where tragic events only happened to ‘other people’. I would soon learn that Death had visited us and that we were about to be swept up in Grief’s tumultuous path. Like a tornado, the words yet to be spoken would lift me from my foundations and send me spinning. Within seconds my safe, happy, predictable world would be imploding. Still wearing my mask of ignorance I was expecting to be informed about my children’s father. They obviously had his details too and were checking they had the right address. The words about to be spoken could not be uttered lightly or to the wrong party. With inquiring, innocent eyes I sought out their message. That is until, with the ease of a seasoned expert, the policewoman changed the conversation to my sons. I instantly knew something was terribly wrong. I felt my heartbeat quicken and knew that no matter what she was about to say it would be life changing. And life changing it was. “There’s been an accident.” No there can’t have been. Oh my God, there’s a policewoman in our home and she’s talking about an accident. She must be in the wrong house. No. Wait. She was asking about Graeme before. She knows our family name. Why is she here? I want her to leave. I need her to leave. Go away. Please… “Three boys involved.” Oh my God, no. This can’t be happening. No. Not Tom and Ben, they worked together last night. No. No. Not Tom and Ben, how can this be? Oh no, please don’t tell me that something terrible has happened to my beautiful boys… no… As I looked at her I could see her mouth speaking but the sound was distorted. Then in some sort of slow motion of sound, the words - letter by letter - reached my ears, entered my ear canals and began the process of trying to make my brain register the message. A message no mother should ever have to hear. A message so horrendous it’s almost unprintable.... “Ben’s been killed.” As my brain tried to make some sort of sense of the message that had just been delivered, my legs went weak. My body went numb as synapses stopped firing. She guided me to a nearby chair and took my hand but I couldn’t feel her sympathetic touch, for in that instant, part of me died too. Death I see myself… I’m standing on the edge of a deep precipice. The steam rising from the deadly crater fills my nostrils and lungs with acrid sulphur. My arms, red from the glow of the molten lava below, are outstretched and my body forms the shape of a cross. Facing the full moon as it rises before me, I lift my face to the heavens and pierce the night sky with a primal scream… The Finality of Death Nothing impacts us as profoundly as the finality of death. Even the death of a stranger can affect us. It’s interesting that sometimes we can remember clearly where we were and what we were doing when we first hear about the death of a celebrity or a high profile person. The moment is etched into the recesses of our mind because even though we didn’t know them, we still sense a loss and it affects us. When someone precious to us dies, the impact is huge. Time stands still as we begin the challenging task of processing the loss, knowing that without this special person, our life will never be the same. That single moment in time signals the death of an old way of existing and the beginning of a new way of experiencing life, the more significant our relationship the more significant the loss and its impact. Of course we don’t live our lives expecting to hear bad news so the last thing on my tragedy-free mind was that I would receive the Message of Death. When it came, it hit with a force that is indescribable. I want to explain its impact yet cannot knit together the words and phrases needed to effectively do so. For the instant the first syllable left the policewoman’s lips my conscious connection to this world was severed, just as if someone had tripped on an electrical cord, ripping its plug from the socket and rendering the appliance completely disabled. Her incomprehensible, inconceivable message left me feeling totally disconnected from reality. “Is there anyone I can call?” A voice from eons away was asking. “Can I get anyone?” The voice spoke again. Words floated through time and space to reach my numb brain. Eventually I realised the voice was coming from the policewoman sitting next to me. I forced my brain to register her words then I forced my mouth to respond. “Yes. Get Tom. He will know what to do.” Tom, my wonderful firstborn who took to the role of eldest sibling like a duck to water; Tom, who was steady and sensible; Tom, whom I deferred to for support when they were all younger; Tom, who as a teenager would only need to say, “Okay kids, come on, that’s enough,” and with the respect he had earned over the years from his younger brothers and sister would magically bring order from childhood chaos. Yes, Tom would know what to do… because I had absolutely no idea what to do. For the first time in my life I had absolutely no idea what to do.