Losing You

8 03 2018

I’ve always had the impression that if Marko were to die, that more people would grieve for him than any of us might imagine, as he was so well known, and so universally loved.

I watched the outpouring of love for him on social media yesterday, and I grieve with you.

Grief is what I wanted to talk about, some of you, like myself, have encountered it often, but there might be a few lucky enough to have not had their lives harmed by it, yet.

We take our cues from Hollywood, Someone dies and we cry, it’s expected of us, but it’s not necessarily what happens in life.

I am surprised by my own reaction after the death of Marko.

He and I were very close friends, He had slept in my house several times, always visited when he was in town, flew down to me when Mum died just to support me.

I consider myself extremely fortunate to have been his friend.

When My Father was dying, He was in hospital being eaten away by cancer. He was an enormous bull of a man, and the cancer rendered him skeletal.

He had become a frightened little boy, and I felt entirely useless. I wanted to fight the cancer directly, to rescue him from the threat, but could not.

And So I found tears coming freely as I sat with him in Hospital.

He was half sedated, and not entirely sure of where he was, but at least he knew we were there, which was enough I suppose.

I remember him turning up at 2am, having left the hospital to be with us, sleeping in pain all night.

Laying in bed, in hospital, is much harder than it seems. You’re worried, sick or in pain, you don’t know what time it is, you’re doped to the eyeballs and totally bored.

Dad returned to hospital the next day.

I remember the smells, they say dogs can smell cancer, no… everyone can smell it. it lingers in the air, a sort of mushroomy mustiness, you never forget it.

After Dad died, there were few tears, mostly just a numbness.

It appears I have experienced similar with the loss of Marko, I mourned for him before he died, mostly because he was suffering and I hated that he was.

When he died, there was relief mixed with sadness and a feeling of being defeated.

But last night, everything was inexplicably hilarious.

I was laughing at silly things I saw online and filling my facebook with humour, and thinking that I shouldn’t be feeling like this, that it was wrong, even a sin of some kind.

One of my best friends had just died, what if he was to walk in and see me laughing like nothing had happened.

Of course it’s just a Facade, isn’t it?

If Marko and I would have been together, we would have laughed a lot.

Marko wasn’t so much a joker, but he was a funny character himself which probably made him all the more adorable to us. When he got a joke and the bliss would spread across his face, and he’d try to smother a laugh as though it was naughty, but would let it out anyway.

And I noted how he spoke like Dr Karl, the rhythm of his words, usually when he was pointing out something important, was a close match.

As I write this I’m feeling fine, but not in a good way.

I’m aware of the hollow feeling in my belly and the slight shake in my arms.

Grief is a devious thing, it catches us off guard.

Yes we may get through days or weeks, but it hits us when we least expect it.

A dear friend had lost her Mum years earlier and thought that she was over it, but walked into a shop where the smell of her Mother’s perfume hung in the air, and she lost it right there.

I have been out in public, walking along a street on a lovely summer day and a freight train of grief hits me for no real reason at all.

So I’m fully prepared for it.

I know you’re grieving in your own way, especially those of you who were bonded with Marko, or lived alongside him each day.

Those of us who knew him were fortunate to have him as a friend.

If any of you feel the need to talk, I can be contacted easily enough, and if your grief is too hard to cope with, please seek help.

I have friends checking on me to see if I’m ok and I am grateful to all of you.

Love and Peace to All of you.

Wolfie Rankin.



One response

8 03 2018

Very sad, Wolfie, I can feel your pain. At the end of the day, our loved ones (furry and non-furry) make our lives worth living. *hugs*

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