Bringing Memories to Life
“I want to remember the precious times we had together in those last weeks but already they are fading and I am forgetting,” Claudia said with resignation. It was now a month after Tom had died and the conversation had just shifted from the challenges of getting through each day.
“Is gathering up memories of the precious times something that you might like to do in this conversation?” I checked.
“Yes, those last four weeks,” Claudia said through tears. “From when we were told in the hospital Tom was dying and decided to come home. In the hospital, I asked one of the nurses, ‘How long does he have?’ and she replied, ‘Maybe a week.’ As you know, however, he lived for four weeks… Tom didn’t ask how long he had to live but I wanted to know.”
“Would it be OK to ask… what was important to you that you asked for the nurse’s guess as to how long he had to live?” I added the word “guess” as no one ever definitely knows and that uncertainty is often unfamiliar to people.
Claudia’s voice broke, “I just wanted to know how long I had with him. I think I was just trying to get a clear view of the future.”
“Did you have any hopes for what a clear view might provide you and Tom?”
“I was thinking this is valuable time. It clarified that we wanted him to come home,” Claudia affirmed.
“In this decision to go home, what kind of valuable time were you and Tom hoping for?” (22)
“It meant he could see the changes in the girls. They are so young they change rapidly, especially Libby who develops in small ways every week. I knew that visiting in hospital is just not the same. Everything is different, distorted and not in their natural state,” she explained. Visions of hospital rooms with their lack of privacy and noisy nights floated through my mind. I tried to imagine visiting such an unfamiliar environment frequently with a baby and young child.
“What does it say about Tom’s relationship with Imogen and Libby that he prioritised noticing small changes in them even when he was dying?”
Claudia smiled. “He treasured and valued every little thing about them. He’s been quite good at appreciating small things for a very long time,” she answered, speaking of Tom in the present.
“Could you tell me a story of Tom appreciating Libby and the small changes in her perhaps? And then Imogen and what he enjoyed about her?” I was aware that I was collecting memories, not only for Claudia, but for her girls as well. Together we would build a document of memories she could keep. (23)
After Claudia had shared some stories, I became aware we had diverged from what she had originally said she wanted to discuss. “I notice we have moved away from speaking about the four weeks you said you wanted to focus on. Would you like to continue on this track or would you like to spend some time talking about the last weeks of Tom’s life? What would you like to do at this point?” (24)
“The last four weeks. It’s fading so fast. I’ve even forgotten subtleties that were routine to me, like giving him his morning wash, and that was something I treasured doing,” Claudia stated. I was glad I had checked. I didn’t want the conversation to end without it having been what she wished.
“Would asking you about treasuring his wash be a good place to begin?” Claudia nodded and sat back on the sofa. “Would you like to walk me through how you went about giving him his wash?”
Claudia began to recall previously unspoken details of the daily routine with me, inquiring into their meaning. Towards the end of collecting as many details as I could I asked, “When you were washing him, was there a particular way you touched him?”
“Yes. When he was moving less, I would give him a little massage, or I’d move his legs around. I could tell he liked it. After his massage, we’d put frankincense on his palms and the soles of his feet and he’d go, ‘Oh, Frank!’ and wiggle his fingers making a joke!” Claudia laughed.
“Did he keep his sense of humour even…”
Claudia’s words tumbled out in her enthusiasm. “Always, right up until that last night. A carer came for the night to help. When she saw Tom she said, ‘Still unresponsive,’ so he wriggled his eyebrows at me. It was our little joke! Frequently through the day I would wash his face and I’d say, ‘Would you like a cool flannel or a hot flannel to wash your face?”
“When you were giving him that choice… what was your intention?”
“He had very little control over his life. He deserved respect,” Claudia explained.
“What did you want him to know by giving him that choice and respect…and control?” In tender tones Claudia answered, “He was still just as valuable. Even though he couldn’t move or see much, he was still my Tom, he was still the same to me.” Moved by her love and respect I responded, “May I ask, what would have Tom noticed that would have told him it was you washing him rather than someone else and that he was still the same to you?”
“He would have felt my love in the way I washed him. I was given a choice of washing him or having a carer do it. There was no way I was going to let someone else do such a personal, private thing for him,” Claudia stated, flicking her hair behind her. (25)
“What were you valuing, do you think, when you prioritised this loving moment with him and protecting his privacy even as you were parenting two small children and doing everything else that was required of you?” I reflected on the exhaustion that comes with parenting very young children. Such a choice was not right for everyone. Claudia lowered her voice, leaning towards me as she spoke, “I wanted to protect his dignity and have that intimate time with him.”
“May I ask, what did you experience as meaningful in the relationship when you managed to get that time together and share love and intimacy?”
“It felt like this was why we had him at home. It meant I was the one changing his nappy… And I did feel proud and honoured that I could do that for him. It’s not something a wife normally does for a partner, but I guess it was a new intimate thing we could do where there were precious few of those new things.”
Struck by her ability to generate such a deeply loving experience in something so far from what couples ordinarily do together, I responded, “What does it say about you that you felt proud and honoured to do that care for Tom … that you could find intimacy in changing his nappy for him rather than seeing it as a chore?” (26)
Thoughtfully Claudia answered, “I think I understood what he needed. I understood the best way to do that for him.”
“What was it that you understood about Tom in those last weeks that was important to you both?” Claudia pondered. “We were able to slow things down a bit.”
“How did you do this slowing?” I wondered. Claudia spoke slowly as she considered, “Just focusing on little things. I’d go and get him milkshakes and I’d say, ‘So what flavour milkshake do you want today and where do you want me to get it from?’ It was treasuring very small decisions. I got great pleasure from him eating or drinking something and he got to make decisions and think about that milkshake and what he wanted. Life zoomed in and focused on those nice moments.”
“What did you know, Claudia, perhaps about living with such a serious illness, or about Tom, that had you recognising that making a decision about the flavour of a milkshake was worth treasuring?” I couldn’t help but notice her extraordinary sensitivity to Tom’s experience and I hoped that my questions might draw Claudia’s attention to her wise and gentle care.
Claudia laughed. “Tom knew his own mind. I would never make that decision for him, particularly around food,” she said, reminding me that Tom was a skillful and passionate cook. “Choices in his life were dwindling. He didn’t have a lot of control.” She dropped her head for a moment, reflecting. Tears glistened in Claudia’s eyes as another thought occurred to her. “Tom knew how much it would hurt me when he went.” The tears gathered and a sob escaped but she went on speaking. “He didn’t want to go but most of all he was worried about me…” Claudia started to cry unreservedly. Her face reddened as more of her body joined the experience of grief. Rather than a break in the conversation, it was as if these tears spoke what words couldn’t as we reflected on Tom’s love for her even as he was dying. (27)
Quietly, I eventually asked her, “What were these worries Tom held for you?”
Claudia was barely able to speak yet she persevered, wanting to express what the emotion meant in words. “He just knew how hard it was going to be… he cared enormously about me being alone.”
We were quiet for a time as Claudia continued to weep.
“He was sad for himself and the girls, but he was really sad for me,” she eventually explained.
I thought about Tom worrying about Claudia even as he lay in bed so sick. “What does Tom’s compassion mean to you? …. that he couldn’t bear to think of you being on your own…that he cared so much about what might happen to you…?”
“It was a demonstration of how much he loved me,” Claudia choked out. “I usually cried,” she explained, smiling at herself through the tears. “I felt guilty every time I cried and got comfort from him but he’s the person I turned to when things were wrong. He said comforting me was something he could do.” She stared at me with her eyes wide waiting for my response.
“Do you have a sense of what it was to Tom that you chose him to seek support from?”
Claudia exhaled, “I think he was thinking about the time when he wouldn’t be able to support me, and he was doing what he could.”
“How would Tom have understood the way you saw him when you sought comfort from him?”
Claudia considered, speaking what seemed like newly formed thoughts. “He was my best friend, and we were there for each other. It didn’t change when he was sick. I think it was hard but very important for him. It allowed him to show support for me, I guess. He saw it as something he could do for me when he could do so little, when I was doing so much for him. I didn’t feel the need to protect him.”
“What do you know about Tom that you knew you didn’t need to protect him?”
“He was strong. He said he wasn’t scared of dying.” Claudia let out a big, long sigh collapsing in on herself in seeming resignation.
“Would it be OK to ask you one more question about the way you shared your grief together?” Claudia nodded.
“What did you know about the relationship that told you that talking would be best for it?” I wanted to bring forward Claudia’s knowledge of their particular relationship because I knew that this kind of talking wasn’t best for everyone.
“It’s what we’ve always done,” she readily replied.
Our time was coming to an end. After I summarised what we had been discussing, I checked with Claudia, “How has our conversation gone today? Has the experience of reflecting on the last four weeks connected you with anything that is helpful or important to you?” (28)
“I think it’s highlighted how we did it according to our values. That’s incredibly important to me. It eases the pain just a little to know that,” Claudia responded.
“How might you carry that knowledge do you think? That you did it according to your values?”
“I guess by carrying on doing that with the girls,” she replied thoughtfully.
“Perhaps we might come back to that next time if it interests you…. but could I ask you something else? As you reflect on the last weeks of Tom’s life, was there anything that happened that moved you a little closer to being the person you want to be?”
With some energy and perhaps surprise in her voice, Claudia answered, “Now that I talk about it, lots of things. Doing it our way and speaking up to make that happen. The way I was able to show him how much I love him through what I did. It was so hard, but I was there to support him die the way he wanted to do it. I hadn’t really thought about it before.”
Turning Towards Pain
Claudia and I met each week until I was scheduled to be away on leave. (29) Before I left, we planned who Claudia might turn to in difficult times for support and what she might do. Not long after I returned, we were once again sitting in her home. After greeting each other warmly, Claudia brought her cup of tea into the living room, and we sat down.
“We had a fortnight gap this time, how did that go?” I inquired.
Claudia let a rush of air out. “My sister said, ‘Have you seen your counsellor this week?’ And I said, ‘No we couldn’t make it. Sasha was away.” And she said, “I always know when you haven’t seen her.” I thought I’d be fine, but I’ve had a really awful fortnight.”
“What is it that you do differently in the week when you’ve had a chance to talk?” I inquired, but I was off track. (30)
“I was thinking about what it was that changed. You know how I was feeling numb? Well, I’m raw now. I can’t seem to stop crying…” Claudia’s voice broke, and she could no longer speak. The pain gathered and eventually she sobbed, “It’s all the time… just crying all the time. I’m right back to raw and where is he? And how can this be happening?”
I listened, feeling the echoes of her pain. (31)
Claudia bowed her head and tightly wound her arms around her body. It was as if she was holding herself together. “I’m right back there… and that lovely numbness… that I was feeling has just gone,” she stuttered through the sobs. “It’s horrible… just that relentlessness… And I went to see a clairvoyant and she was just ghastly. I think that tipped me over the edge a bit. I realised I had a lot of hope riding on it.” She looked up at me with wet eyes.
My voice was soft. “May I ask …what were your hopes in seeing the clairvoyant?” I wasn’t surprised Claudia had visited a clairvoyant. Many people search for connection with someone who has died through spiritual understandings they hold.
“I didn’t realise until afterwards that I was hoping that it would be for real. I would have got a feeling of peace knowing that he is somewhere and can be with us. I didn’t get that at all. I just felt duped. I was already feeling quite low but hopeful, I realised afterwards.”
“Would it be okay if I ask a bit more about these hopes?” Claudia nodded as she blew her nose. “Would you mind speaking a little about what you were hoping for?”
“That he’s somewhere…And he’s not just puff gone. That he is somewhere and sometimes, somehow, he is around…that’s what I really want to believe…I need a message to say, ‘I’m OK, I can never see you again but I’m OK…and I know you are OK.” It is one of the hardest things I think, the not knowing.” I reflected on how much not knowing there could be surrounding illness and death.
Claudia’s anguish layered her words as she again tightly encased herself with her arms. “I’m stuck in this awful hole…I don’t know how to go on. I just don’t know how to hold on. I feel like I’m clinging on to a ledge. I have to but I don’t know how to keep going and going and going…” (32) I tried to imagine the relentlessness of continuing on. Her words created a vivid picture of the ledge. I made sounds of empathy as I listened, a witness to her pain and sorrow. “How important was knowing where Tom is in this holding on?” (33)
“Very important,” she cried.
“Yeah… yeah…,” I replied, almost crooning in my compassion for her. “What would it have given you in the holding on?”
Claudia cried, hiccupping as she answered, “Some sort of peace that he’s OK…that he’s with us…and that I might see him again…It’s so hard. It’s not like breaking up with someone and you know they’re OK. Somewhere they’re alive…”
“Completely different,” I affirmed.
Claudia voice was husky, “I just can’t get my head around it. It’s the absolute worst that could happen to me…I’m really struggling…” Her tears took over and we paused, neither of us hurrying or censoring her expressions of grief. “…and I’m sure having less help this week is making a difference. The family have been away. I’ve actually been feeling OK with my parenting.”
My ears pricked up. “Yeah…?” We had talked a lot about the impact of grief on her parenting as Imogen and Libby were Claudia’s top priority. However, I didn’t want to move Claudia away from her talk of the struggle sooner than she wanted so I resisted asking a question and kept my query very small.
“We’ve found a routine and I’m not shouting. I’m not feeling desperate about those times,” Claudia told me with an energy that conveyed to me she might have a possible interest in speaking further about her parenting.
“Is this something you would be interested in talking about?” When Claudia indicated, she would like to follow this direction I continued, “What’s allowed you to be OK with your parenting especially when there is so much struggle?”
“I think routine has helped. It’s soothing. And I’ve got really, really good at filling in the time now. Those girls are bloody tired by the end of the day because I’ve worn them out. Like last Sunday, we went to the markets and met a friend for breakfast, then we went to a school children’s art exhibition which was a couple of hours and then we went out west to see another friend. We got home at 6 P.M.” Claudia sighed, sounding exhausted even by the thought of what she had just relayed to me.
While being so busy was not Claudia’s preferred way of parenting prior to Tom’s death, this was a survival strategy she was using. “I’m really tired but that’s how I cope. Just fill in every hour possible. It’s not because I don’t want to think because I like to think about him. It’s just the only way I can cope with the kids. It’s helped.”
I returned to the aspect of parenting Claudia was feeling good about and, remembering Tom’s belief in Claudia’s parenting, decided to bring him into the conversation. (34) “And what would Tom make of you doing your parenting in a way that you felt good about? Finding a routine and being more how you want to be with the girls. What would he be thinking about that?”
“He’d be saying, ‘I knew you could. I’m proud of you.’”
We both smiled. With a lighter voice I asked, “What might Tom have known about you that allowed him to know you could do it?”
“That I put them first…,” she replied as tears trickled down her face. “…That I’ll always look after them…” Intensity and what sounded like determination entered her tones of sadness “…and I’ll hold onto that ledge for them…hard as it is…”
“Is Tom under your feet helping to hold you up a bit too?” I asked, wanting to add his support if it was there.
“I don’t know…I hope so…He would if he could…if he can he will…I forgot about the rawness. It’s so horrible.” I nodded.
“It’s only three months since he died,” Claudia told me with emphasis.
“No time at all and yet perhaps a long time too. How would you describe it?” I reflected, slowly waiting for what else she might be about to share. Claudia replied, crying as if her heart would break, “No time and yet forever. It’s part of why I hurt so much. How’s three years going to feel since I saw him? And thirty years? I feel like I’m only living for my girls…to give them a good life…and not enjoying any of it myself. The hole just keeps getting bigger.”
“Is it hard to imagine that the hole might stop expanding and steady a bit? That it might be less gaping one day?” I said, offering a future possibility.
“I can’t…”
I nodded.
“Is your wanting to parent the girls so they have good lives…” I began to ask as I looked to connect Claudia to parts of her life that might help support her keep holding on. Her virtuous desire to care for her children in spite of the pain of living stood out to me.
Claudia interrupted me, staunch as always in her love of her girls. “I want them to have good happy lives, absolutely.”
“How would you describe a good, happy life for your girls?” I invited, seeking to connect her with a future for them that might be possible to envisage.
“Doing things that stimulate them and interest them with me…positive times with me and …being strong in themselves…able to weather some storms… and get enjoyment out of things…and finding passions. I want that for them but not for myself. I don’t believe in having that for myself. I can’t see it again. It feels like it’s all gone…”
We paused together for a time and Claudia wept. (35) “I feel like something in my soul has gone… an intrinsic part of me.” Her description touched me as I murmured a quiet acknowledgment. After a pause I added, “May I ask what part of your soul would that be?”
“All of my adult self…is connected to Tom. Everything I do and think is influenced by him and our relationship. All my memories of being an adult…are with him. The way I view things is because of him. It is lovely and I’m very glad. But it’s such a wrench.”
“Was your soul entwined with his?” I wondered. Claudia nodded. “And was his entwined with yours?”
She nodded vehemently. “I don’t know where he is! It’s just so hard.” Claudia’s body shook and she put her head in her hands. It was my turn to nod as we both acknowledged the hardness. It was so hard (36). As we sat there for a time, I considered Claudia’s disappointment with the clairvoyant and how it had made the pain worse.
“I wonder if we can think about that a little bit…if we could figure something out, away from the experience you had with that particular clairvoyant…”
Claudia laughed heartily through her tears, “…Who believes in herself even if she is a complete fraud. I can’t accept that he’s not somewhere or not existing.”
“What are your understandings of possible places or ways that Tom could be existing?” I asked. People I meet with often have very different ways of understanding death even if they identify as belonging to a well-known faith tradition. They also often re-evaluate beliefs they’ve held for a lifetime in moments of illness and loss. I can never assume I know what someone believes.
“That he is part of the energy, the finite energy of the universe… that’s scientific,” Claudia explained to me. I listened attentively as she continued, “Or he could be in a different realm or a different world which is potentially scientific as well.”
“… like a parallel universe?” I inquired, noting her tears had stopped. “Yes. Or in some heavenly place, someplace souls go where there’s peace. I’m sure there are other frontiers but those are the ones I think of…I want him to be conscious somewhere and aware of us. If I think about another world or a heavenly place, he would be conscious of us.” She stared at the sky out the window. “What would a sense of Tom’s presence give you?” Claudia returned her gaze to me. “I would know he’s with us, present in our lives”.
“Do you think you have any impact on that sense of presence or how that presence could be felt?” I inquired. Claudia looked at me quizzically. “Clairvoyant people say we do, don’t they? If we can be open to it or not open to it.”
“I don’t know…Can you influence the way you feel Tom?” I wondered curious.
“I don’t know. I’d like to,” she affirmed. I cast my mind back to a previous conversation. “When we met last time, you mentioned you had felt him.”
Claudia confirmed, “I felt him really strongly.”
“May I ask what you were doing at the time?”
“I wasn’t doing anything out of the ordinary. I was probably having a laugh which was unusual as it was maybe two or three weeks after he died. The girls were playing around so a bit of a lighter moment and I was laughing with Libby playing peek-a-boo.”
“Would it be possible for you to have faith in yourself even if you can’t have faith in the clairvoyant you met?” (37)
“I’ve tried very hard to separate those two. It’s where I came to on Saturday. I didn’t have a very good experience with her but that doesn’t mean it’s all out. I didn’t pin my hopes on just one person. I booked two clairvoyants. I’ve booked the other one for August and I’ve heard she is authentic and very good. I’ll keep that booking. I’m not giving up on it altogether.” Claudia sounded calm.
Laughing, she added, “I can spare another $120! If she’s good!” I laughed in response before inquiring, “What about your own experience of feeling Tom was with you?”
“It was very strong. But it’s very easy to doubt myself. That’s what’s hard I think,” Claudia explained. “I had another experience where I was looking for a necklace and I felt Tom very strongly. I was looking and looking and then I found it one day and I had a very strong feeling that Tom had helped me find it. I know that sounds strange. But it was such a strong feeling that I said, ‘Thank you Tom! That’s for Imogen.’ It just came out. I need more! Greedy, greedy!”
“When you feel Tom with you, what does that feel like?” I asked curiously.
“Normal! The old normal,” she explained with energy.
“How do you know he’s there? When he helped you find the necklace, what happened that told you that?” I wondered, keen to learn more.
“It just felt like everything’s OK again.”
“Ah.” I sat back in my chair.
“And I don’t have to have this new normal. Both times I just felt lighter and happier. This nightmare is over or maybe not what it seems.”
“If you met with another clairvoyant whom you did or didn’t find authentic, could anyone take away those experiences that you’ve had?”
“No. They’re authentic to me,” Claudia stated.
“You said you want more of them…”
In a sing-song voice Claudia interrupted, “I do!” She was grinning.
I returned her grin. “On demand!” I echoed in the same sing-song tones. Claudia laughed. (38)
“They felt authentic to me and I’m a big believer in going with your gut instinct. I’m quite in tune with those things. They felt real.” Claudia sat back looking steady.
"I drove back to the hospice some time later reflecting on the many understandings people hold about what happens to a person after they die." (39)
New Understandings
Claudia returned to work and, as the routine settled and time passed, the pain of Tom’s death intensified. As Claudia explained to me, “It is now not just days or weeks since I last saw Tom, but six months. The longer it is since I last saw my Tom, the more I miss him.” I wasn’t surprised as many other people have described a similar experience to me.
It was a rainy day. Claudia had finished breastfeeding Libby and had returned from laying her down to sleep. She walked up the stairs with a heavy tread and sat down. “It feels like we are now in a new normal. The new normal makes me so sad. I don’t want a new normal. I want the old normal. I’m feeling guilty; sad and guilty.”
I made a few acknowledging sounds as she talked, “It is so tough. Who would want this normal when comparing it to having a partner they loved alive?” I paused a moment as I looked at Claudia’s drawn face. “Would it be helpful to share with me some more about this sadness and guilt?” I continued, wondering if it might be useful to get to know th
