So, here we are, a week after Mark's funeral, and things are beginning to settle back down again. I have to admit that I still feel somewhat surreal. There is this realisation that, after something that changes our lives happen, there is this disorientation as you look around the world and wonder why it is still happily spinning the same as it did before. I recognize that this is the same awkwardness I felt after parting way with FMR, wondering how they can so happily spin off like nothing ever happened leaving me feeling like my world had totally been torn apart. And again now, wondering how my family could feel this blow and notice that the rest of the world just seems to have it's same concerns - how to pay this bill, what's on television tonight and what's for dinner.
I'm still finding it a little hard to sleep. Most of the day, i'm fine, almost like everything that has happened over the past few weeks is just one bad dream. It's only when it gets late at night that reality is allowed to creep in, and often then I find myself feeling the loss the most. I remember watching Live 8, wanting for Ant to sleep, and just sobbing while Annie Lennox sang 'Why'. It's those private moments where I actually feel like I can just deal with it.
I do realise I want to get closer to my family. I always thought we were close but Pep's death has highlighted that I feel we could be closer, and that I do honestly love my siblings and crave their respect. In addition, there are so many images from our past that are spread amongst us and I hope to scan these and share them amongst us so that we can keep them digitally. I tend to forget much of my history until I look at these photos of this small kid from the 70's... bad, long hair... in usually very funky kinda clothing that I sometimes wish I could find now... and it's me. The collective share history of my siblings and I over recent years is rather brief, and it would be great to see more written there.
The car repairers said that my car was "about to go into the oven" yesterday. I now have images of me driving a giant cheesecake or twinkie. My car must be baked until golden brown and not too hard in the centre, or something like that.
I'm feeling like i'm getting back into the routine now though - wondering when I should get back to gym (hello, where is the motivation?) - people I need to catch back up with - all that sort of thing. I actually went out this past weekend, cause it had been so long, and after the recent events, felt like it was time to catch up with some friends and take in something different.
My lunch break is coming to an end so I feel like I should get back to floating candidates, schmoozing clients and thinking up some marketing tactics.
Just a quick one, as i'm sitting at work on my lunch break at the moment. I've decided to come back to work, although i've yet to decide if this is a good thing or not (I think it is a good thing). I have to admit that my mind is not totally with it still, mostly from the shock of everything and the lack of proper sleep. But I think getting me out of the house and getting back into it is ultimately the way to go, although i'm finding today a struggle.
If there is one good thing to have come out of all this, it is a reminder of how quickly things can change and how we should take nothing for granted. The sad thing is that I don't even remember the last time I caught up with Mark - I can't remember the location (probably at mum and dads), and I certainly don't remember the conversation. It has made me question how I take these meetings, although I certainly don't feel that I am any different to anyone else. It would be rather morbid to think of every conversation you have with someone potentially being the last, and yet that is always a possibility.
I keep swinging between being all right and being miserable about the loss of my brother. The funny thing is that I didn't really see him terribly much over the past few years, but it was almost like the knowledge that he was there and so there wasn't the urgency. They say a week is a long time in politics, but clearly, a week is also capable of enormous change. Little over a week ago, I could call Mark and talk on the phone, or go and visit him, and now, this isn't an option. I'm beginning to realise that sometimes a week is merely a portion of wasted opportunity, although I don't want to get too existential on you all.
Anyway, enough rambling for me today. Just wanted to get these thoughts that have occupied my head out for the morning so that I know they've been acknowledged, let them go and move on.
In the early hours of this morning, Sunday 3rd July, while REM aptly play 'Everybody Hurts' for Live 8, Sid phoned to tell me that Mark had passed away.
Ant and I promptly had a shot in toast to Mark, to thank him for the wonderful brother he was to me, and to the gentle and loving man he had grown to become.
In times like this, i'm reminded of a poem which tends to capture my feelings towards someone passing away, and felt I would like to share it here.
DEATH IS NOTHING AT ALL
Death is nothing at all. I have only slipped away into the next room. I am I, and you are you. Whatever we were to each other, that we still are. Call me by my old familiar name, speak to me in the easy way which you always used. Put no difference in your tone, wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow. Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes we enjoyed together. Let my name be ever the household word that it always was, let it be spoken without effect, without the trace of a shadow on it. Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same as it ever was; there is unbroken continuity. Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight? I am waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just around the corner.
Surely, this week has to go down on record as being one of the worst in a long time for me. The only things that have really seen me get through it are the support of my family, friends, and Ant. Michael, as both friend and boss has been wonderful and giving me the space I need although i'm sure he would really appreciate all hands on deck at Artisan. Ant has really been there 110% as well, which has been great.
The unfortunate news is that there is nothing that the doctors can do, and sadly, Mark is unlikely to survive past the weekend. We had a doctors meeting tonight at the hospital, which threw me somewhat. Ant and I missed yesterdays one due to heavy traffic, arriving to find a very shaken and upset family who passed on the news that, basically, there was nothing that the doctors could do and that Mark was going to die. I had asked Ant if he would mind if I went in to see Mark by myself, and was very tearful as I said my goodbyes to him and thanked him for being a wonderful brother. I've spent so much time this past week at the Royal Melbourne, and I have to say that the staff there have been absolutely wonderful, answering questions and offering support every step of the way.
But the doctors meeting today really threw me. It might sound odd, but the consistent use of the word 'harvest' was really upsetting me. Mark has put himself down as an organ doner, and while I am sure it is a technically correct and logical word to use, the thought of my brother being discussed as body parts was a little too much for me to deal with. However, I agree that if his kidney, heart or liver can help save another persons life and not put another family through what we're experiencing, it would be a wonderful thing. However, half way through the meeting, having heard what I needed to hear and really being put off with the word 'harvesting', I needed to leave the room.
I felt more composed today though, and more reconciled to the fact that Mark has gone. He might be breathing in a bed in hospital, but I know that the Mark I knew isn't going to come back. But over this week, i've had more and more memories flood back to me, consoling me. Mark took me to my first ever rock concert; INXS at Festival Hall, 1986. I was 13 at the time, and Mark took me along with his girlfriend. Again, Mark encouraging my love of music.
Last night, I had gone back to Colin and Deb's with Mum and spent some time relaxing there. Tonight, we decided that the family should meet back at Mum and Dad's place. This is where the other unfortunate part of my week occured.
Literally no more than a few minutes away from my parents place, a car of four teenagers took a corner sharply, lost control of their car, and smashed right into mine, taking out the front drivers side. I was remarkably calm about it all, although I did think, as I could see the car swerving uncontrollably towards me and fearing my own safety, "this is going to really give Mum the shits..." The girl who hit my car, 18 years old and on her P plates, was physically upset about the whole experience. After all that had happened this week, I was a little too drained to be too upset, and since no one seemed hurt, thought this was the most important thing. My immediate reaction was to phone my brother-in-law Sid, since I thought phoning Mum would upset her and felt that Sid was the right man to ask for assistance. Leanne answered, and moments later, Sid, Russell, Colin and Vanessa all arrived to assist. Two cars kindly offered themselves up as witnesses too, and the car that I scraped (we're not sure if it was just prior to or on impact) remained to swap details and chat.
Ironically, as we were driving away from the Royal Melbourne tonight, a woman flew her car infront of me, and once quick breaks saved Ant and I from hitting this stupidly blind wench. Strangely, I was more upset about her than I was about the later accident, even though the reckless driving was equally as pointless and pathetic.
Once I did finally get to mum and dad's, the atmosphere was light and full of laughter. We toasted Pep (Mark's nickname), and let him know he will be missed. We talked about so many past stories, which i'm sure gave Ant some more insight into this bizarre family he has found his way into. Mum and Dad kindly lent Ant and I one of their cars so that I could get Ant home for work tomorrow (this) morning, and I promised to get it back to them tomorrow, after Sid has a chance to look at the damage on my car and decide from there.
I'm sure the next few days are going to be equally tough. Tomorrow, they turn everything off with Mark, and leave it to see how he reacts. Mum and Dad indicated that they won't be going back to the hospital, but if I can sneak one more visit in, I will. The full horror of this week hasn't really sunk in, but long after it has and gone, the memory of my brother Mark will always be with me.
