A thief comes in the middle of the night; quietly and unexpectedly whilst the house occupants sleep peacefully, unaware of what is happening around them. They wake up to find precious possessions no longer in their rightful place, and to the violation of their perceived safe place.
In the week between Christmas and New Year 2011 death came like a thief in the night and stole a wonderful man from us, and in the process violently assaulted those who shared a safe place with him.
That man was Dan Mason. The funny, kind, generous, easygoing, motorbike and guitar loving fiancee of my dear, dear friend Mary. Mary is my friend I have spoken about in previous blog posts (https://undertheinfluenceofsix.wordpress.com/2014/07/13/normality-comes-to-visit-and-gareth-just-about-makes-it-to-india/) ; my much treasured friend who ‘got’ my life with Ga more than anyone else I knew, because Dan also had Cystic Fibrosis. I had only met him twice myself, the last time being in the summer when I went to stay with them one lazy summer weekend. I liked him a lot. I saw the same spark in him that Ga had; grit and determination to not make a fuss about his health, and instead concentrate on achieving what he wanted from life. His attitude of caring for others above himself. Despite his CF, he looked after himself and was relatively fit and well. In October 2011 him and his friends raised thousands of pounds for the Cystic Fibrosis Trust, rowing across the English channel, with Mary cheering them on in the support boat. Excitement was building for their wedding in 2012.
This is not the place for me to tell you Mary and Dan’s story. I do not want to focus on the medical side of things other than to say Dan’s death was not directly linked to his Cystic Fibrosis. I include what follows because mine and Mary’s lives became so inextricably linked that their story is part of mine and Ga’s story. She has kindly given permission for me to share this.
At midday whilst walking my dog Ben I rang Mary, leaving a lighthearted answer-phone message updating her on our Christmas. At 11pm she rang to me know Dan had collapsed and was currently ventilated on ITU. Both being healthcare professionals, we reassured each other that this was the best place for him at the time. Once off the phone me and Ga prayed for Dan, and sent urgent texts out to others we knew to pray. At 6am Mary rang me in a state of shock and shared the horrific news that Dan had died.
He was twenty-seven.
Ga and I sat in bed in shock. How do you absorb such terrible, terrible news? Almost immedietely I went numb and felt sick and although I dragged myself into work the idea of going onto hospital wards and seeing patients repulsed me so I hid in the office. I was in a daze and couldn’t concentrate. In the end I left work and went to the doctors for I knew I was in no fit state to work. I had reached breaking point. Remember this happened less than 10 days after Ga had had his PEG inserted, and since his Aunty Margaret had died. In the end I had 5 weeks off work; 3 on sick leave and 2 on a pre-planned holiday in Gambia.
On the surface that seemed extreme. I didn’t know Dan that well. I wasn’t close family, and yet I fell apart over his death. But under the surface there was so much grief going on, looking back I’m surprised I didn’t need more time off. Firstly, obviously, there was grief for my friend Dan; for a young life with so many plans brutally cut short. Secondly, and more prominent for me was grief for Mary and what was now lost to her. Having become such close friends, and having mutually supported one another so closely over the previous two years, sharing our hopes, dreams but also greatest fears for the future, I was now witnessing those fears become her reality. And thirdly, her greatest fears were also my greatest fears. Being so linked to Mary and Dan, I found it incredibly easy to slip into Mary’s shoes and imagine it was me having lost Ga. It was like being given a crystal ball and looking into my own future. For those of us linked to the CF community, sadly it is a far too common occurrence to hear of another young life lost, so this wasn’t me being all doom and gloom; it was based on the reality of living with CF. And fourthly, a new grief emerged. Grief for the wonderfully easy friendship of four Mary, Dan, Ga and I had been. My diary entry states ‘For two years we have pleasantly being bobbing alongside each other’s journey with partner’s with CF and in one night our boats have been violently separated and our lives are now following different courses. We are no longer able to so easily support each other. Her train has crashed. I’m still riding mine.’ In those early days I was very fearful I’d lose her friendship, for I could see how maybe having a friend with her CF partner still with her would be too painful to deal with. And I so needed her friendship still. And so I took myself back to my CF counsellor, to talk through the mess and dark thoughts going through my head at this horrific time. I could not have got through those five weeks without this.
Ga’s family were congregating 4 hours drive away, preparing for Aunty Margaret’s funeral and quite incredibly, Mary and Dan only lived a 30 minute drive from there so we were able to physically be with her in the immediate aftermath. I was also aware Ga was grieving his aunty, recovering and learning to look after his PEG, and in a similar way looking into his potential future (and future for me) if anything was to happen to him. It was a heavy time. We went to bed early on New Year’s Eve (in Aunty Margaret’s house), as neither of us were in mood to celebrate 2012 and what it would bring. I spent New Years Day sitting with Mary and her parents in the lovely home her and Dan had renovated together. This was not a happy new year.
I redid the 4 hour drive the next week, this time without Gareth, (who needed to rest at home) to attend Dan’s funeral. It was a very, very hard day. I longed to be with Mary and talk through my thoughts and feelings but rightly so Mary was caught up with the rites of passage of death with Dan’s family. As I watched her, my heart breaking, I found myself taking note, and wondering what I would do the same or differently for Gareth’s funeral. She wrote Dan a letter and read it out beautifully during the service. I was so proud of her. And it was then I realised that I too would speak when it was my turn. I didn’t really know many people there, and spent most of the day with red eyes. At one point I sat in my car and howled, my sobbing so passionate the car actually shook. I didn’t get much chance to chat to Mary, but as the day came to an end, I was invited back to Dan’s family house, then to the pub with Dan’s friends and lastly to spend the night with Mary. That was a real privilege and honour, and I think I needed that as much as her to reassure me our friendship would survive this.
So 2012 was a year where me and Ga were closely aquainted with grief, as we gladly supported Mary in whatever way we could, be it long phone calls, cards, being involved with the many fundraising events put on in Dan’s memory, having her stay with us in Cardiff and us visiting her (and Ga teaching us both to do DIY jobs around the house). We got through what would have been her hen party and wedding day. And whilst the dynamics of our friendship had to change, I’m so incredibly thankful that the depth and quality of it never did; if anything it made it stronger, for both me and Ga.
Under the influence of six... 