On Life and Death

The Domino Effect of One Facebook Post

I hate it when my day begins with a kick in the gut. I hate it, even more, when it ends with being woke from sleep by a kick in the teeth. It’s not fair.

When I woke up Tuesday morning I really had no idea how the day would go. I have to go to town one day soon. My daughter is out of one of her meds. The prescription has been filled and is waiting to be picked up.

I was debating whether or not this would be the day. She’s been pretty sick the last few days. The medication would likely help, a LOT, but she’s 22 years old and only told me the night before that she’s been out for a few days. I fought not to lose my shit.

It’s going to take me over an hour to drive to town, grab her pills and get back home. I have to figure out when I can squeeze it in. I hate going to town for just ONE thing, especially now that the price of gas has doubled!

I have to bake bread and do chores before I can do anything else. So I put the coffee on and start activating the yeast for the bread. If I’m baking bread anyway, and have to go to town, maybe I should make a couple of extra loaves for ‘Old Bill’.

He’s 86 years old and lives alone. I’ve known him forever. He used to buy my bread every week when I did Farmer’s Markets, which I haven’t done since the pandemic. I would however take him some once in a while if I happened to be going to town and had fresh bread.

That always ends up taking hours though. I can’t just drop it on his doorstep and go. He’s lonely and I just know he’ll want to visit. I don’t have time today. So I decide I’ll just bake what we need for ourselves.

I grab a cup of coffee and go to have a smoke and check Facebook while I wait for the yeast to do its thing.

One of the first posts in my feed takes my breath away:

‘My friend Bill MacDonald, passed away, peacefully in his sleep on Sunday, February 27th.’

I nearly vomit. I want to dump my yeast down the sink. I don’t think I can ever bake bread again.

I am overcome by guilt. How could I have been so selfish? Even though I’ve thought of him many times, I haven’t seen him in months. I’m always too busy.

I brace for the phone calls I inevitably have to make.

I’d thought of calling my older brother on Monday just to chat. Instead, I fell asleep. Dammit. He’s told me before that he sometimes doesn’t want to even answer when he sees my number pop up on his caller ID. More often than not it’s bad news. At least I know he will take it in stride.

It’s my younger brother that worried me more. He rented a room from the old man for a year or so. Bill has been like a father to him. He’s not as strong and stable as our older brother and he had been a lot closer to Bill. This was going to be a tough phone call, but it had to be made.

I’m also going to have to call my baby brother more often for the next while. I can’t have him thinking he is alone in his grief. I can’t leave him to wonder if anybody cares. He needs a reason not to dive back into the comfort of his meth pipe.

I ended up making the bread, but it’s been a bit hard to swallow every time I eat it. Even just seeing it on the cupboard brings thoughts of Bill… and a feeling of guilt. There were many times I could have made him some and didn’t.

I stayed home and worked around the farm and house on Tuesday. Grief and memories bubbling just under the surface.

Whenever guilt reared its ugly head, I was reminded of many conversations with Bill about regrets. They are pointless. You can’t go back and change what you did or didn’t do. You can only move forward and try to do better. You can’t always fix your wrongs, only God can do that, so you gotta leave the past in His hands.

Regret is truly a travesty. Spending time wishing you had done things differently is nothing more than a waste. You can not change it now. All you are doing is depriving yourself of the pleasures and opportunities that exist here and now. You’re missing out on the blessings.

Do not hold your head down in shame over your past mistakes. Hold your head high. Take in all the beautiful, wonderful things that life has to offer. Look for chances to do better.

Forgive yourself for your trespasses. Know that in the end, God forgives you, too.

I hate end-of-life celebrations. I avoid them as much as possible. It’s easy when it’s someone that wasn’t directly in my circle and was very well known in the community. Someone who has touched many lives leaves many to mourn their passing. I usually just say that I don’t want to take the seat away from someone that loved the person more. In all honesty, I prefer to grieve in private. I don’t like people to see my tears.

Bill’s funeral is tomorrow and part of me doesn’t want to go. I will though. I’ve promised my brother that I would pick him up and take him. I’ll be there for him.

I worked hard throughout the day Tuesday. It helps me when I’m processing hard emotions, to keep busy. At the end of the day, I drew comfort knowing that Bill would never have wanted for me to be this upset and guilt-ridden. He’d just want me to remember the good times, hold my head high going forward, and do better.

I fell asleep early, but at 10:30 pm my ringing telephone woke me from a sound sleep.

It was a close friend wanting to know if I had heard about the murder of a developmentally challenged woman that had grown up in our community. I had not and it hit me like a kick in the teeth.

My heart instantly shattered for the woman’s mother and eight-year-old daughter.

I had visited her mother just before Christmas. We’d talked at great length about the struggles of raising our grandchildren and how thankful we are, for their sake that we are in a position to do it.

We had also talked about her worries for her daughter. The young woman was making poor choices, putting herself at risk and there was really nothing her mother could do. I told her that one of my biggest fears is that my granddaughter, who is also developmentally disabled, might also take that path. We talked about hope, prayer, and other possible solutions to ensure the safety of our girls.

This poor woman is now living through our greatest fear. The support her daughter needed didn’t come in time. Now it’s too late. She’s not only fallen through the cracks, she is forever lost.

💔

We’ve never been what I would consider close friends. I’m torn between reaching out to her in sympathy and leaving her in peace to mourn her loss. I can’t pretend this hasn’t impacted me, but I’m at a loss when it comes to knowing exactly what to do.

Then I remember all of my guilt and regret from throughout the day over Bill.

I remember our chats about not having regrets, just doing better moving forward.

So I ever-so-cautiously reached out to the woman’s sister. I sent a message through Facebook. I sent condolences, offered support, and made it clear that I empathize and do not want to infringe upon the family at this most difficult time. I suggested some things I might be able to do to help but was sure to tell her that I understood the need for time and space to process everything. I wouldn’t come or call without making sure it was okay.

Over the past couple of years, I had been withdrawing from friends and family. Mostly because when SHTF in my life they weren’t there. I figured that if I wasn’t worth their time, they didn’t deserve mine either.

That one simple Facebook post that crossed my feed on Tuesday morning turned my thinking and feelings upside down for a couple of days.

It’s made me realize that I need to stop counting the times they weren’t there for me. I have to remember what a difference it made for me when someone unexpectedly stepped up to the plate.

I can’t fix what has been broken. It’s time to start fresh. It’s time to just do better moving forward.

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