Beautiful in Death – Part 2

Death is horrible. There is nothing attractive about death. It is agony to be cut off from someone you love. It must be terrifying to die.* It certainly is terrifying to watch.

The actual week of ‘J’’s death is horrendous to recall. I often flashback to it and wish I had said something more profound to him or gotten to hold him. I know he appreciated us all being there and hearing our voices and ‘D’ even got him to play a geography game with a map on the wall where he would glance or grunt to indicate a place where mum and dad had been on their world travels. A game we were all expert at, as we had heard the stories many times. ‘J’ throughout his suffering with cancer, was never sorry for himself or complaining, but always kind, patient, often hilarious and prayerfully battling to stay alive. That in itself is an incredible testament to his beautiful and gentle character.

I went to a Christian Womens’ Conference recently (EQUIP) where they showed footage of a little girl being airlifted out of Haiti, several days after the official search for survivors had ended. One rescue team that was still carrying on the now deemed ‘hopeless search’ discovered her still alive. I found it almost unbearable to watch. Her glazed expression, so close to dieing, the mask, the tubes, the emaciated body. I just saw ‘J’. The camera zoomed in and you could see the sad, sad no longer much alert eyes, the young girl resigned to her fate. She knew she was going to die. But yet, she lived.

Though I saw all those physical aspects of death encroaching on ‘J’, as he lay in St Vincent’s in his last week of life, I did not see that defeat in his eyes. His eyes were burning with determination to live. Even after a stroke. Even when pathology called the hospital on the last day to find out where the blood they had collected from ‘J’ at 11am that morning had come from?
‘That blood does not support human life,’ they told the doctors.
‘Where did you get it from?’
There were no white blood cells, no red blood cells, no platelets, nothing useful.
‘J’ lived by the grace of God for 14 hours on that blood.

‘L’ and I have a running date at the moment with mum and dad once a week where we usually visit ‘J’’s grave, go for a swim, or now that the weather is cooling, have lunch at a local fish restaurant afterward. I have mostly found it painfully sad to visit my little brother’s grave, and many has been the occasion when I have tilted my hat down over my eyes so ‘L’ and mum and dad do not see my tears. But every time is different. And I go to support mum and dad and because that seems like the right thing to do.

Last week, for a change, I felt good. And I felt like we were celebrating ‘J’ by visiting him, rather than only mourning his loss. ‘L’ collected frangipanis with my Dad, as is the family custom. Only the soft white ones with a yellow centre, no brown bits. Sometimes Dad has other bunches of flowers he takes too. On this particular occasion ‘L’ collected some sharp sticks and leaves that she thought Uncle ‘J’ would particularly like. She held her grandmother’s hand and sang Colin Buchanan’s, ‘Super Saviour’** very loudly along the way:
‘Look! Look! Here comes Jesus! Up! Up! Out of the grave!’

When we got there we placed our flowers where we liked. ‘L’ made a ‘stick garden’ and then proceeded to sit in a corner of ‘J’’s grave, scattering sand and mixing furiously. (Apparently she was making a chocolate sand pie. ‘But don’t worry,’ she said, ‘there’s lots of chocolate in it, so it’s going to be very tasty!’)

I know that ‘J’ would not be offended that she is using his grave as a bit of a sandpit in spots. He loved little ‘L’ and would probably find it funny. We do restrain her and try to confine her to the edges, but I personally think there is something quite healthy and helpful in not being too solemn at his gravesite.

I really do believe that Jesus is going to raise ‘J’ out of this grave! I think it’s fantastic that 'L' has connected (of her own accord) Colin’s song with visiting her uncle’s grave.

In this lightness of mood, Mum has a chuckle about the messiness of the grave, strewn with a motley collection of different flowers, and looking a bit ramshackle. The last time they visited someone had written “ ‘J’ rules forever” in the sand. (A school friend. ‘D’ rubbed that out.) At Christmas time there was tinsel draped round the cross.
“There’s a certain family quality to it,” mum mused.
“Unpretentious?” I offered.
“What are you talking about?” said Dad. Completely oblivious to how much the grave really does say about our family style which is: Recycled, rough-hewn but definitely full of love.

There is a homemade white stake that Dad has painted with ‘J’’s name and DOB and DOD in blue. It is temporary of course. We are waiting for the ground to settle before erecting something more permanent, but for now it happens to be a very authentic memorial to a much loved, much missed member of our family.

People might think it is quite strange or morbid to visit his grave so often. But is it? How do you celebrate a life? At a 21st? At a wedding? At a 40th birthday party? ‘J’ didn’t make it to any of these. He had a funeral. At nineteen. And as much as it makes my heart ache to see a wedding car - whizz by with all the fun and excitement of that special moment in someone’s life bubbling out the windows, effervescent with hope and happiness - and think instead of 'J'’s hearse car - that was the big celebration of his life. That was what we got to do for him. And we don’t make him sound better than he was. He really was beautiful in life. And so he is beautiful in death. As we go and remember him, tell funny stories about him, have gallows humour and hope 'L' doesn’t tread on too many flowers or make too many deep holes in the grave.

* I know my brother told my mum he was not afraid of dieing, because he knew he was going to be with Jesus, but he was really sad to be leaving us.
** ‘L’ is currently having a love affair with the Colin Buchanan “The Good News Parcel Company” DVD given away at lots of churches for free during the Sydney Anglican CONNECT09 initiative.