Frozen tears and liberation
The last few days, well, the last two weeks have been a little turbulent to say the least. I've not found a real place for myself to sit down and just be, take time for me, process and actually write things down the way that I would like. Well, I haven't taken or I haven't had. The wording doesn't really matter. I've essentially had to much on my mind in order to let my mind wander to the place from which I usually create.
I was sick with a complete loss of voice, which made me sound more terrible than Frankenstein's monster and made it more painful to speak than if you had razorblades in your throat. And just a few days ago my uncle finally died. I say finally, which makes it sound kind of terrible, but I mean it in the most loving, caring and remembering way possible. I haven't been able to find any words and it's been really difficult for me to express myself and my feelings. I can normally find them with ease, but this has been a mind numbing experience.
I've wanted to honor the man and his life with creating something, that's the only thing I know how to do. But the words just haven't reached my fingertips. I haven't been able to formulate any concrete thoughts or follow any thought pattern.
Four years ago my uncle suffered the most terrible accident possible. A car became airborne after having hit a speed bump, having speeded way past any reasonable limit. The car clipped my uncle and threw him far, far away. The two dogs that he was walking died in the instant. The next months my uncle was in a coma, pure vegetable state. A state from which we thought he'd never recover, mainly because of the extreme brain damage that he suffered. The scan of his brain showed almost nothing but black holes, gaping things where there's supposed to be at least a flicker of activity. Nothing. Black holes.
He recovered, miraculously and started a rehab process which was more than painful, not just for everyone around him but mainly for himself. It looked like things where getting somewhat back on track when a violent change happened and my once so peaceful, loving, caring, uncle threatened to go berserk, kill everyone around him and then himself. It was clearly a backlash of the frustration he felt by not being able to function the way he himself wanted to. And in to the void he went again. This time, with literal zero hopes of him ever recovering anything of his former self. The pattern with the slow recovery repeated itself but this time, he couldn't speak and he couldn't recognize anything or anyone around him besides my grandma, his mother.
His last four years on this planet have been absolutely terrible, they've been nothing but pure hell. A four year slippery slope down towards the inevitable that happened this week. His death.
This liberation, which it was it feels like, this relief combined with this grief and sorrow is a weird mixture. I grieve mostly for the fact that a man that was so vital, so intelligent, so loving, caring, respected and so many more things never got the chance to enjoy life to the fullest all the way up until the end.
The last time I saw my uncle we were sitting in his room in one of the many hospitals where he were. My Mom had gotten up to go to the toilet and I was left with him, a shell of who he former was. We hadn't been able to communicate a lot and his hands were cold and sinewy. His face grey of sorrow and his skull deformed from the accident. His eyes were watery and void and there was no trace him remembering who I was. This was not my uncle, but somewhere in there he must've been because he grabbed my hand and in a lucid moment looked me in the eye and said;
"I'll see you later, Fredrik."
I'll see you later Gunnar. I really hope you've finally found the peace you deserve.
Don't be a stranger! Loves
I was sick with a complete loss of voice, which made me sound more terrible than Frankenstein's monster and made it more painful to speak than if you had razorblades in your throat. And just a few days ago my uncle finally died. I say finally, which makes it sound kind of terrible, but I mean it in the most loving, caring and remembering way possible. I haven't been able to find any words and it's been really difficult for me to express myself and my feelings. I can normally find them with ease, but this has been a mind numbing experience.
I've wanted to honor the man and his life with creating something, that's the only thing I know how to do. But the words just haven't reached my fingertips. I haven't been able to formulate any concrete thoughts or follow any thought pattern.
Four years ago my uncle suffered the most terrible accident possible. A car became airborne after having hit a speed bump, having speeded way past any reasonable limit. The car clipped my uncle and threw him far, far away. The two dogs that he was walking died in the instant. The next months my uncle was in a coma, pure vegetable state. A state from which we thought he'd never recover, mainly because of the extreme brain damage that he suffered. The scan of his brain showed almost nothing but black holes, gaping things where there's supposed to be at least a flicker of activity. Nothing. Black holes.
He recovered, miraculously and started a rehab process which was more than painful, not just for everyone around him but mainly for himself. It looked like things where getting somewhat back on track when a violent change happened and my once so peaceful, loving, caring, uncle threatened to go berserk, kill everyone around him and then himself. It was clearly a backlash of the frustration he felt by not being able to function the way he himself wanted to. And in to the void he went again. This time, with literal zero hopes of him ever recovering anything of his former self. The pattern with the slow recovery repeated itself but this time, he couldn't speak and he couldn't recognize anything or anyone around him besides my grandma, his mother.
His last four years on this planet have been absolutely terrible, they've been nothing but pure hell. A four year slippery slope down towards the inevitable that happened this week. His death.
This liberation, which it was it feels like, this relief combined with this grief and sorrow is a weird mixture. I grieve mostly for the fact that a man that was so vital, so intelligent, so loving, caring, respected and so many more things never got the chance to enjoy life to the fullest all the way up until the end.
The last time I saw my uncle we were sitting in his room in one of the many hospitals where he were. My Mom had gotten up to go to the toilet and I was left with him, a shell of who he former was. We hadn't been able to communicate a lot and his hands were cold and sinewy. His face grey of sorrow and his skull deformed from the accident. His eyes were watery and void and there was no trace him remembering who I was. This was not my uncle, but somewhere in there he must've been because he grabbed my hand and in a lucid moment looked me in the eye and said;
"I'll see you later, Fredrik."
I'll see you later Gunnar. I really hope you've finally found the peace you deserve.
Don't be a stranger! Loves
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