I have held the hands of an elderly woman mourning the sudden loss of her husband. I have hugged the husband sobbing in disbelief that his life long partner passed away in her sleep. I have consoled children, parents, strangers, myself.
People often ask me, how do you deal with dead people? Well, most often it's that I didn't know them alive, so their death means nothing to my life. Cold hearted? Maybe, necessary, yes. If I stop to look around at pictures, in the homes where someone has died, then I will find myself thinking of them in their life they once had. The heart strings start to tug and, well, we can't fall apart on a call. We can't cry with them. They called us for help. We have to be strong. It's just the way it is.
So after 17 years, I've sort of mastered the cold heart. So much so, that when one of my own family members pass on, it find it hard to grieve. Sure I'm sad. Sure it sucks when someone dies. And usually for the most part their death doesn't' affect my daily activities. You see, my grandmother had 12 children. Naturally we ended up with a large family. Death was introduced to me at a very very young age. I've come to accept that it's a part of life. I've become the strong one that people turn to because they know I've dealt with death on a more regular basis than they have. Between work and family, I've lost track of the death toll.
A few days ago my wonderful Aunt died. It was an unexpected death, complications from surgery, coupled with declining health and old age. I am sad that I never got to see her one last time. It's been years since I've seen her, so long that my kids don't even recognize her by pictures. That saddens me. It saddens me that our family has gotten so big and so busy that we don't get together anymore, and then it's too late. My Aunt was in her 70s. She had no children, had been widowed when I was young, and found a partner to stand by her side since. I believe she was happy, had such a kind soul, was rough around the edges, liked to smoke and liked to play guitar. I have fond memories of Chirstmas gatherings at her home many years ago.
As we prepare to say goodbye to her at the end of this week, I'm struggling somewhat with my feelings. I haven't cried for her. I'm sure I will, when the time is right. Right now, I'm trying to be strong for my dad, who is falling apart. I am trying to be the voice of reason - she was unwell the past few years, her quality of life was declining, she wouldn't want us all to be sad. She's up in the clouds having a blast with siblings and her parents that have gone before her. She is at peace and she will always be with us. Always.
I feel her with me when I speak her name, just like I feel my nan (her mother) with me. Shivers run through my body and I know it's her. That brings me peace, knowing we are not alone. Knowing that they are watching out over us. Knowing that someday we will see them again.
Until then, I keep my cold hardened heart and become the strength for those around me.
The life of a paramedic.
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