What would he have made of this?

It perhaps says something about the ‘bigness’ of suicide loss that it takes a Pandemic to block it out of mind. Up until last Friday, I’d not thought about my brother for a good few weeks – that is, I’d not had the daily flash-through-the mind reminder of his used-to-exist status or the how-he-died detail I’ve come to expect. Ordinarily, I’d view this as progress, as a sign of relief-at-last and acceptance being achieved. But when I look at the wider circumstances impacting life at present, I’m not sure I can claim this as being the reality – it’s just that a head only has so much space to accommodate massive life-changing events, and right now, in its process of prioritising what needs to be addressed or thought about first, my brother’s death has, however surprisingly, been demoted.

I felt, honestly, a bit guilty about this, a bit confused, having grown used to having Martin ‘still there’ in some manner. I've been living in a 'new normal' long before that was something the world over was thinking about. To realise he’d vanished entirely, was unsettling and yet another change to ask questions of, and it got me thinking about what we do in grief more broadly – from the present day vantage point, I would suggest bereavement in the main used to prompt a concentration on ‘looking back’, a focus predominantly on memories and images of a life lived and concluded, and retrospective analysis. Living in the midst of a pandemic seems to suddenly drag in the present and future as well, (the loss of that which has not yet occurred or that which might have been), pointing out to the bereaved right from the first day of their grief whole new levels of detail to make the experience/process even longer and more intense/overwhelming.

Martin appeared in my thoughts during usual procrastination at the end of UK lockdown week 8. No reason for his appearance, there he just was. It was not the thought of him that surprised me but rather how he was in the image. I had a picture of him and his guitar, encased by a Zoom-meet box on the screen on my iPad, strumming along as my daughter plink-plonked on the piano in the living room. I was imagining him and her meeting musically, virtually. I know I’m luckier than those who have gone through traumatic loss during this pandemic. I have had time to deal with just the past, not having to manage past, present and future in one excruciating swoop; but I’ve still found the sudden realisation or reminder regarding ‘hypothetical losses’ tied to Martin’s departure a bit of wrench.

This daydream prompted two things most of all. Firstly, I wanted straight away to visit the place, the tree, where I scattered Martin’s ashes, which obviously I am unable to do. The place matters not only because my brother ‘is there’, but because what it evokes for me is ‘calm and still and comfort’. That is how I feel when I am there. There are days at this time of year when the weather is good and the thought is, ‘today is a great place for a tree visit’ – there have been a couple during the lockdown when this has been the case, and sadness has ensued from knowing I can’t act on the desire and reach the emotional sense that the location for me produces. Even more problematic is the not knowing when I can go back to visit generally. That makes the tree and its meaning grow bigger in my mind and the hope to reach it again, sooner rather than later, stronger. What we do physically with our grief, how we memorialise and mark is so very important (for a long time) after a significant loss.

And secondly, the totally fictitious scenario I had conjured got me thinking more and I came to feel that it showed me the suicide element may no longer matter so much as Martin’s possible life(ves) lost. Of course, it goes without saying, suicide matters – and the awareness-raising, the campaigning and the educating must continue to be out in the open (now more than ever, perhaps) – but what I’m meaning here, though, is that in my own world at this particular moment I am being prompted into imagining, ‘seeing’ more of what might have been, who he might have become based on his past loves/interests/being, away from the dominating element that is suicide. Living through this current out-of-my-control circumstance has got me thinking more about Martin as he might have been right now – indeed, I find it is an unappreciated power of a rampaging virus that it can prompt the unification of the past and present via the question ‘what would they have made of all this?’ I wonder how he would have felt and experienced this world: would he have grown his usage of the online communication means that he professed to loathe? Would he have actually found ways to connect with others given everyone would have been in the same, required virtual boat as himself? Could these circumstances have actually helped him feel less isolated than he already was? Could he have used now to put more of his music ‘out there’ as other musicians are trying to do right now? Would he and I have talked more? Would he and his niece have grown closer? I can play around with all these ideas, and sometimes I like to think of positive answers that in an alternate world would have meant he was in a better place and didn’t take his own life. But really, deep down, I know the answers to the questions I’ve toyed with would probably have remained ‘no’, given the extent of the illness he endured and, indeed, the ability of the pandemic context to amplify already-existing difficulties.

I don’t wish he’d experienced Pandemic-living, I just wish he’d stayed with us, so we could know him now and in a post-Pandemic future.