Mixed feelings

Mixed feelings

I started writing this on 11 November, the day the Armistice was signed which brought the end to the First World War.  After millions of human beings, note the term, human beings, were killed, maimed, disfigured and mentally scarred.  For what?  A home fit for heroes?  Most went back to the same poverty they’d left when they’d joined up to protect their country from the enemies they’d been told they had.  

However, this isn’t about politics, this is about mixed feelings felt by the individual.  

The mixed feelings people have when they remember those who have died in war.  The First World War, the Second World War, Vietnam, Iraq, Israel, Egypt, Yemen, the list could go on.  And on.  And on.  The mixed feelings people have when they think about why people went to war and died.  The relief that people feel when they heard the loved one had died quickly.  The regret.  The anger at the waste.  The loss of someone you loved, knew, cared about.  All of that.  The relief when that person comes back apparently unharmed.  It needs to be remembered that the wounds might be hidden, sometimes for years.  We call it PTSD…

Then you have people having mixed feelings at a personal level.  When their Mum dies, or their Dad dies.  Or a friend you cared about lost a battle against an unwelcome ‘guest’ – liver cancer <here>  (Semper Fidelis, Bill.)  I find it with everyone I know, the mixed feelings they have when someone they love, or have known for what might be decades, is dying or suffering a lingering illness.  They love, care, respect them to the extent that they don’t want them to suffer.  They love, care, respect them to the extent that they want them to stay.  To remain and make them laugh.  To allow them to care.  To remain and continue to make them whole.  To complete, maintain the balance of their world.  

Then the person dies.  

It leaves those left behind feeling guilty that they wanted them to go and go quickly, with no pain, because although the body was there, the soul, the essence as it were, is no longer present.  And that’s where the mixed feelings come in.  Relief that the suffering is over;  anger at the person dying before you were ready to let them go;  guilt at wanting them to go because them staying was causing them physical and mental pain.  

Mixed feelings, eh?  Such a pain.  Such a load of confusion.  Such a maelstrom of emotions.  Good.  Bad.  Never indifferent.  

So very human.  

J J Mitchell

‘Never leave anyone behind’ 

I lost a friend today. Semper Fi, Bill…

I lost a friend today.  Semper Fi, Bill…

I heard today that I had lost a friend.  He passed away having fought an unwelcome guest with all the power and passion that made him successful in what he did when we worked together.  He told me six months ago about this unwelcome guest, liver cancer, and that he and the love of his life would fight it together.  He fought.  Oh, how he fought.  Even as he lost that fight, as I found out today he had, it did not beat him.  He would not allow it.  His wife would not allow it.  He would have gone down fighting.  

Semper Fi, Bill.

He was a faithful friend to me and the crew with whom he worked.  He was a healer in all that he did.  He was the first person I thought of when asked if our team could help a group of people who had lost one of their own.  He went in, he worked hard, ‘don’t you ever sleep?’ he was asked more than once.  You look after your own.  No one left behind.  His Marine training, attitude and beliefs would have reinforced that.  

Semper Fi, Bill.

I lost a friend today.  

And I am so sad. 

J J Mitchell

‘Never leave anyone behind…’