Sue's Blog - Some assembly required.

The whole world has gone mad.

Today has been a most peculiar day.
It started normally enough with a trip to the mall for a manicure.
Whilst sitting amid the throng of 'ladies' having their nails done, a young woman came into the salon and asked for if she could get her nails done.
Cindy, the manageress, who was in the process of doing someone's nails, told her it would be about 5 minutes.
Pretty normal still.
After a minute or two the young woman approached Cindy and asked if she remembered her previous visit and did she remember her baby son, whose picture she waved under her nose. Cindy didn't seem to.
She then announced very loudly that he had died.
All the eyes in the place immediately looked up. You could feel the tension in the room.
Cindy, obviously shocked , asked what had happened.
"He died in his sleep last week and they can't tell me yet what happened. It was probably a cot death," she replied, "and I want my nails done for the funeral".

I would be the first to say how grief affects people in different ways. So, I was not about to judge this woman.
I had a personal tragedy in my life. It was many years ago and I still find it almost impossible to talk about.
Whoever said time is a great healer had never experienced mind numbing grief. Listening to this woman, the years flew away and I was right back there at my worst moment.
The tidal wave of emotion hit me hard. My stomach went into a knot. I was in fight or flight mode but could do neither.
The woman asked for Cindy to do her nails. The collective sigh of relief that came from the other manicurists was almost audible. They didn't want to do her nails...what would they talk about?
I wrestled with my conscience.
I felt I should talk to her, maybe offer some words of comfort. Pah....what words of comfort could I offer? I had none.
What could I say ............after all these years it doesn't get any easier!!!!! The wounds are obviously just as raw as they were back then. How would that help the poor soul?

Back then, when my tragedy occurred, I didn't leave the house for weeks. I couldn't face the outside world and then when I did it was worse.
I would be walking along the street and would see someone coming towards me whom I knew.
Inevitably, that person on spotting me, would cross the road.
Now I do not condemn them for that. They must have been scared to death of bumping into me.
What could they say? There was nothing anyone could say. But, the thing was I didn't want them to say anything. I only wanted them to say stuff like "Isn't the weather horrid" or just hello. I needed things to at least seem normal.
It gets very lonely when people constantly avoid you, even though their motive isn't to be horrid.
When someone who is older passes away....granddad, grandma, even mum or dad...well that is the natural order of things and you can quite easily say "oh dear I was so sorry to hear about your mum, dad, granddad" etc. It seems ok.......when it is a child or children then the whole game plan changes. This shouldn't happen and it is impossible to know how to deal with it.
Actually, there is no prescribed way of dealing with it or if there is no one told me.
There was no counseling or anything offered. You just had to get on with it. Which I did...in a fashion.
I was thinking that she must still be in shock and denial. I was thinking what she would go through when it did hit her. Then it got even more bizarre.
She sat down to wait and started an equally loud conversation on her phone.
It went something like this.

"I don't know, babies do that. If I go to jail over this you had better all f---ing stand by me. No, he didn't. He didn't kill him. I know he has been mean to me and was jealous but he didn't kill him."

By now I had had enough and needed to leave. I was shaking when I walked away from there. This was all too much.
After a few deep breaths, I decided I needed some Christmas therapy.
I made my way to one of the dept stores and immersed myself in the Christmas stuff. I was vaguely aware of some Elvis music in the background. After I had quenched my thirst for all things shiny and sparkly I came out of the store to find a small stage had been set up. It was surrounded by chairs for the audience and there on the stage was an elderly man who was belting out Elvis songs. He was excellent.
His voice was amazing. I then noticed that the audience was rather elderly too.
I went to the floor above and watched from the balcony as he finished his bit. I was just going to leave when I was intrigued by about a dozen elderly ladies in Hula outfits (no bare midriffs thank goodness) who made their way onto the stage.
Then accompanied by suitable music they started Hula dancing.
It was surreal.
Most of them were pretty good........oh ok the Margaret Rutherford look a like on the end wasn't really with it most of the time but she was having a go.
As I watched them, with their colourful outfits and flowers in their hair I came over tearful.
Just like I do when I watch the primary school kids put on their Nativity Play.
Bloody hell..........I thought, I must be a wreck if I get emotional over a group of old biddies dancing. Time to grab a coffee in the food court.
Curiouser and curiouser.
It hadn't ended yet.
Having got my cup of McCoffee I was doing a spot of people watching and trying to make sense of the mornings activities when I noticed a young couple looking for a table.
She was carrying a very new baby wrapped in a blanket.
As they sat down the blanket slipped back a bit and I could see the baby's head. It's hair looked odd. Then as she tried to adjust it's blue hood and pull the blanket back up I could see it was a doll.
What next?
I'll tell you what next.
She fished around in her bag and came up with a baby bottle full of milk which she pretended to feed to the doll on her lap.
I kid you not.
This went on for quite a few minutes before they got up and left, still pretending to feed milk to the doll.
By now I had decided that I or the world had gone completely bananas.
I came home.
What will tomorrow bring.......best not to ask.

posted by Sue Banks @ 1:24 PM