This strikes home as I’m finding myself making ever more frequent drives north to attend to and assist my late father’s sister. A spinster as well a former warden and rancher, who never much wanted anything to do with me --even after her brother’s early demise-- but now that her eyesight is failing has a new found appreciation for my presence. Frailty sands away gritty pride I guess. When I’m done being useful, I’m not great company but I can play hymns on an Orange Blossom banjo and for brief while both of us feel a little less bitter about the state of things.
I was reading in Albion’s Seed this evening how 17th c. puritans made their children stare into freshly dug graves to impress on them their ever-present mortality and to live always with that in mind. I guess you know.
I read an account where a man named Johann from the 18th century remembered being taken to a cemetery by his father, who showed him the family plot. There were 16 infant graves there, all his older brothers, who had died as babies. Looking at the names, he saw that he was the 17th Johann.
This essay, dear soul, is one of the most heartfelt, honest and memorable pieces I've ever read. Of course, it brought tears to my eyes thinking of my own struggles with family and the sorrowful passing of my parents. A masterful piece, perfect for a Sunday night.
God has you right where you are supposed to be. You get to sit in reverence. It is both sacrifice and privilege and hard and character building. Praying for your Grandmother. Psalm 91. 🙏
Indeed, the sickness and dying process is itself transformative for the sufferer and the healer. I say this as a psychiatrist and a mother who has lost a child at 20. He was significantly brain damaged and taught all of us about love and suffering. It sickens me that so often in today’s hospitals, the dying are rapidly dispensed with, so called “living wills” and MAID seek to hasten and obliterate the sanctifying suffering of death. Ad Jesum per Mariam⚔️
I worked in a hospital for over 10 years, often at night. I've rarely felt closer to God than I did walking near-empty clinical hallways at night. Somewhat ironic that our monuments to man's ability to postpone the date with the divine is one of the best places to connect with Him.
What a wise insight. I've noticed a certain tiptoe gravitas that pervades the care with which people act and speak in certain wards- your observation brought the memories to the fore. Undertones of monasticism.
I just went through this with my mother who finally passed last month. she was in and out of hospitals for 2 years. strangely though, I too like hospitals. they seem to contain the full experience of our messy humanity. the births, the deaths, agony, ecstasy, uncertainty. mundane conversations next to deathbed confessions.
Angels and Devils moving in and out of clean white hallways…
When the children were home from school for holidays, love and general philosophy prevented me from screaming like an unhinged banshee for their time, peace and space invasion but the trade off for that self-discipline was an illness. Sucking up the frustration and guilt - a sign of the times we're in - means the body stores that frustration until it can be resolved. I guess writing it out is partly lancing the boil of frustration.
Better than leeches anyway. Probably.
Anyway, the tension was stored in my gums, just as German New Medicine suggested, which presented in abscesses once the chaos resolved (corrected with nutrition and deep peace).
Modern hospitals are robotic and inhuman places. When my father was dying the strongest, most overwhelming instinct was to unplug him and carry him over my shoulder to the top of the nearest hill and let him die staring up in to the sky.
Damn this really hit home for me. As a nurse I feel this resentment constantly. I both hate what I do but also love it. To be faced constantly with suffering is so taxing and exhausting but there is also something so profound about engaging with people at their most vulnerable.
Thank you for being The One. Every Family needs this person - The One who comes in the middle of the night, The One who is there when all others have gone home, The One who calls just to say they remember...
when the night is cold and dark, be the Light of Christ. Be The One...
Hospitals and healthcare places are great places to muse. They are too effective at getting to the core of our being through our bodies. My daughter purchased a book for me, Leaf by Niggle, a short story from C. S. Lewis with great perspective on getting sick, back in the day. Really enjoyed your thoughts and I struggle with interruption as well!
This strikes home as I’m finding myself making ever more frequent drives north to attend to and assist my late father’s sister. A spinster as well a former warden and rancher, who never much wanted anything to do with me --even after her brother’s early demise-- but now that her eyesight is failing has a new found appreciation for my presence. Frailty sands away gritty pride I guess. When I’m done being useful, I’m not great company but I can play hymns on an Orange Blossom banjo and for brief while both of us feel a little less bitter about the state of things.
I look at her and I remember my anger over the years, but I can’t feel it anymore. Its object is beyond it now. I wonder, was it ever not?
I was reading in Albion’s Seed this evening how 17th c. puritans made their children stare into freshly dug graves to impress on them their ever-present mortality and to live always with that in mind. I guess you know.
I read an account where a man named Johann from the 18th century remembered being taken to a cemetery by his father, who showed him the family plot. There were 16 infant graves there, all his older brothers, who had died as babies. Looking at the names, he saw that he was the 17th Johann.
This essay, dear soul, is one of the most heartfelt, honest and memorable pieces I've ever read. Of course, it brought tears to my eyes thinking of my own struggles with family and the sorrowful passing of my parents. A masterful piece, perfect for a Sunday night.
I’m glad you found it meaningful. Thank you for reading.
God has you right where you are supposed to be. You get to sit in reverence. It is both sacrifice and privilege and hard and character building. Praying for your Grandmother. Psalm 91. 🙏
Thank you
Indeed, the sickness and dying process is itself transformative for the sufferer and the healer. I say this as a psychiatrist and a mother who has lost a child at 20. He was significantly brain damaged and taught all of us about love and suffering. It sickens me that so often in today’s hospitals, the dying are rapidly dispensed with, so called “living wills” and MAID seek to hasten and obliterate the sanctifying suffering of death. Ad Jesum per Mariam⚔️
Thank you for sharing that. I am sorry about your son.
We hope to be reunited in the beatific vision
I worked in a hospital for over 10 years, often at night. I've rarely felt closer to God than I did walking near-empty clinical hallways at night. Somewhat ironic that our monuments to man's ability to postpone the date with the divine is one of the best places to connect with Him.
What a wise insight. I've noticed a certain tiptoe gravitas that pervades the care with which people act and speak in certain wards- your observation brought the memories to the fore. Undertones of monasticism.
This was beautiful. I’ll send up prayers for you both.
They are appreciated.
a beautiful piece.
I just went through this with my mother who finally passed last month. she was in and out of hospitals for 2 years. strangely though, I too like hospitals. they seem to contain the full experience of our messy humanity. the births, the deaths, agony, ecstasy, uncertainty. mundane conversations next to deathbed confessions.
Angels and Devils moving in and out of clean white hallways…
When the children were home from school for holidays, love and general philosophy prevented me from screaming like an unhinged banshee for their time, peace and space invasion but the trade off for that self-discipline was an illness. Sucking up the frustration and guilt - a sign of the times we're in - means the body stores that frustration until it can be resolved. I guess writing it out is partly lancing the boil of frustration.
Better than leeches anyway. Probably.
Anyway, the tension was stored in my gums, just as German New Medicine suggested, which presented in abscesses once the chaos resolved (corrected with nutrition and deep peace).
Modern hospitals are robotic and inhuman places. When my father was dying the strongest, most overwhelming instinct was to unplug him and carry him over my shoulder to the top of the nearest hill and let him die staring up in to the sky.
I tend, writing in general and even writing comments to be a bit contrary, my nature or from nurture damnedifIknow.
In this case however, I'm just saying thanks.
Thank you as well.
Sorry for your grandmother, to lose a grandmother is a tragedy. Whenever an elder passes it falls as though a library has been burnt to the ground.
An entire universe disappears.
In the words of Thucydides: "The strong do what they can, the weak suffer what they must."
This writing is like a tonic. A moving reflection.
Amen. Thanks for this.
Did not know that about the Knights Hospitaller.
Knights who served Christ in battle and in charity to the poor and sick, pray for us!
Thank you kindly. I wrote about them previously at greater length.
https://open.substack.com/pub/librarianofcelaeno/p/on-another-september-11?r=b1hwi&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web&showWelcome=true
I will read it. Thank you.
Damn this really hit home for me. As a nurse I feel this resentment constantly. I both hate what I do but also love it. To be faced constantly with suffering is so taxing and exhausting but there is also something so profound about engaging with people at their most vulnerable.
I'm glad you found my words relatable. I did it for a few months; I can't imagine the resources you draw upon to do that work every day.
Thank you for being The One. Every Family needs this person - The One who comes in the middle of the night, The One who is there when all others have gone home, The One who calls just to say they remember...
when the night is cold and dark, be the Light of Christ. Be The One...
Hospitals and healthcare places are great places to muse. They are too effective at getting to the core of our being through our bodies. My daughter purchased a book for me, Leaf by Niggle, a short story from C. S. Lewis with great perspective on getting sick, back in the day. Really enjoyed your thoughts and I struggle with interruption as well!
I'm sorry, the author was J.R.R. Tolkien for Leaf by Niggle. I am sorry to hear of your loss.