Gone upstairs

a personal journey through grief and change

Catching our breath

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This process is challenging. Writing every day is immersive – I do feel as if I am back there 2 years ago, or at least watching developments from the corner of the room… It’s Sunday morning now, 16th November. I can’t remember but I am guessing Becca spent the night at Sam’s house. It’s time for me to make bacon butties and work out where we got to with LOTR…

Tolkien’s tale of middle earth was embedded in our children at an early age. Theseimage-1 photographs were taken in Chicago in 1995 when Sam was 8 and Martin had almost reached the end of the third book. They were keen to have the next instalment at every meal to find out what happens at the end. Martin did a sterling job, putting on voices for all the characters. He had a particularly ridiculous camp one for Gandalf which made them both giggle (“Do Gandalf, Daddy!” “Oooh hello! I’m Gannnndalf”) You can see Sam is nearly asleep over his Chicago pizza but the book is ready on the breakfast table the next morning…! We finished it one sunny morning drinking coffee on a restaurant pavement in the shadow of the John Hancock building 🙂

These are the things that make memories. Hunting for these half-remembered photographs brought back many more. There is comfort in it – reminders of happy times, reminders of Sam and our family life back then. Nothing can take these things away – they are our treasures. I am glad I took so many photographs! I said before, these years would have been swallowed up by time whatever happened later on: we have already had to learn to die to the past in order to move forward and grow.

me

Sam in around 2006

So – we are all Lord of the Rings fans. We eagerly awaited Peter Jackson’s films and each year made a family visit to see them as soon as they were released. They were not quite true to the book, but close enough for us – we loved them. We bought the extended DVD’s and Sam frequently watched them again. Later on he even travelled down to Brighton to visit Becca so they could go to an all night screening of all 3 films! She fell asleep I believe… It was the obvious thing to do together – watch the trilogy for what turned out to be Sam’s last time. “There’s some good in the world, master Frodo, and it’s worth fighting for” “One thing’s for sure Frodo couldn’t do it without his Sam” “We can only do our best with the time that’s left to us” “the smallest person can make a difference” “We may not defeat them, but we will meet them in battle nonetheless!” “No man should have to see his son die” “How do you pick up the threads of an old life?” Deep echoes of truth that help us all on life’s journey.

Our Sam – he was Samuel, but I wish I’d had the courage to name him Samwise! – loved these ideas and had plenty of others of his own. He was a thinker, an amateur philosopher. He knew himself well by this stage, had talked through his childhood issues with me, addressed poisonous relationships from his student days, knew his strengths and weaknesses.

He was also a wizard with words: we always tried to get him to write and when he did it was stunning. He could argue the hind-legs off a donkey; he could turn something round and send it straight back at you. He posted crazy videos of his opinions and thoughts on You Tube, most of which we find embarrassing, but apparently he had a following. (If you are inclined you can look up Scratch 47) He had his own spiritual approach to life. He felt entirely misunderstood by everyone else and regularly ranted about it to his facebook friends!

Here is a sample of Sam, culled from his page by his fb friend Duggy Dyer.(Being so clever you’d think he knew Duggy was really me, but he chose to ignore that… “Duggy please tell Mum” “Mum says…”) Anyone who was fb friends with Sam in 2012 will recognise it…

“I’m a 25 year old hermit introvert with an 155 IQ who is surviving terminal brain cancer 3 years going now with doses of hands on spiritual healing and massive doses of illegal cannabis resin, who went on national TV twice to out himself to help other people despite being sick of society, and by the way despite being functionally atheist I was touched by an inexplicable healing heat (yes, you can say it, God) during a Christian evangelist meeting and am wrestling with my purpose/goals/health/social life/finances, so please don’t think I’m an egomaniac, know-it-all, depressive, or angry misanthrope, because I really like individuals and even despite all of that don’t want to make you awkward because the only way out of all of this is the communication, warmth, and understanding that I will never ever admit I secretly crave…

 “…my mind and freedom to choose is the only thing I have left and I’ll never surrender that no matter who decides to be condescending or mouthy, because if I do, I am the victim they say I am. So you’re stuck with me, my scatterbrain, my motormouth, my broken heart, my social anxiety, my death sentence”

 

This extraordinary and clever young man (155 IQ) was our son. We were the ones stuck with his ‘scatterbrain, motormouth, broken heart, social anxiety and death sentence’ – though he never burdened us with them… apart from maybe the motormouth! It’s good to remember him and to recognise what he was up against, day after day, inside that head of his.

During that precious weekend, if there had been any doubt in our minds, it became obvious how badly things were deteriorating in his incredible and flawed brain. The boy who had memorised all 176 episodes of Star Trek TNG and their directors when he was 10 or 11 couldn’t remember his computer password. He couldn’t get on-line… This really was a major blow, but he was so happy to have us around he didn’t make a deal of it. I wonder what he thought was happening…

That evening he thanked us. He said how much he’d enjoyed hanging out with us all, how much he appreciated it. It’s true, it wasn’t a common occurrence. Becca lives in Brighton, Sam himself usually didn’t want it. The 4 of us struggled to find something in common once the Lord of the Rings years finished. Christmas Day was our family highpoint, sometimes birthdays and less often a film we all went to see – when Sam had usually already seen it illegally pre-release on-line!

Our time together had been so restorative that at the end of Sunday 16th I posted this on facebook. “Sam was really unwell yesterday and we were preparing for the worst, but he’s made an amazing recovery and seems almost back to normal this evening… Lots of good family time was had by all and though the rest of us are pretty tired going into the week, all is well…”

For now.

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Author: Sally Ann

True-story teller - words and pictures

3 thoughts on “Catching our breath

  1. Want to comment rather than press “like” but there’s nothing to say.

    Question though – are you drinking at the mo? Not as in are you drinking all day whilst you are writing but don’t want to bring wine next week and find you’re abstaining – as you were when i came to visit in Leicester!!

    You are one awesome open brilliant lady. XX

    Like

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