I'm not good with dying people, and I'm not good with death. I'm one of the lucky few who hasn't lost many people.
I just found out about the death of a woman I lived with a couple of years ago. Her stay was brief, but memorable. Her energy offered much joy to that house.
She was new to the country, and I enjoyed hearing her perspective on the streets and places and things around us. She reminded me that there is much to be fascinated by. This is part of her legacy, I guess, for which I'm grateful. We shared many wines and meals. I knew that she knew a lot, and that this was the case because she was open and interested in all things she encountered. She never tried to understand the members of that house, in ways that others might. She saw us as good people, and that was a nice reflection to wake up to. She liked meeting our friends and lovers.
I didn't keep in touch with her. There were some dinners at her new place, or at our ex-housemate's place, and there were Facebook words and likes. Her partner was more active there, so I got to interact with him more after she moved from that house. We've all since moved out of that house. These memories of her, like so much else, seem so contained by that space.
I knew she was dying. I didn't know what to say so I didn't say anything. I liked photos of her on Facebook. I liked to watch her adventures. I admired her exuberance, as always. Part of me wanted to hug her and say sorry. But she was mostly away, and besides, I wouldn't feel comfortable doing that. I presume that a dying person doesn't want constant reminders that they're dying. But I don't know actually, because I've never really engaged with a dying person. There were grandparents, of course. They all died, but I was young and I never talked to them about dying or the death of their spouses, or even what it feels like to be old. And still, I have no language around dying. I don't know what to say or how anything can and should be said. Maybe part of it is guilt for being the one who's not dying.
I feel waves of sorrow when I think of her partner. I can't imagine his loss. I don't know what to say to him either. 'I'm sorry' sounds trivial and heartless. Nothing I can say would be useful to his situation, I don't think. And I don't know him that well anyway. But I wonder what he wants to hear or see from the people who are coming to terms with her death. It's not as though I can ask him what words he needs right now.
I'm looking at tributes and photos on Facebook (our usual meeting place), and again, I'm without words to carry my feelings from me to him, or to anyone. And maybe I just don't know how I feel, other than sad. And maybe each sadness needs a whole new language that isn't yet available. So I sit quietly, alone, and I mourn.
