Breathing

[carsonshepherd]

This has brought tears, Joe... your father was a brilliant man who was lucky enough to breathe a long, long time...

lost my own to the breathing disease 15 years ago this week, he was only 42...

your dad would be proud of you and your boys

 

[SeaCat]

Joe,

May our condolences help to fade the pain a little bit. There is nothing qwhich can compare to the loss of a loved one.

Cat

 

[shereads]

This is a short piece by my father who died yesterday of lung cancer, aged 87. It was done at the request of the hospice who were caring for him, when they learned he had been a professional writer (journalism, then TV and film) for fifty years.

He dictated this, improptu, to my mother,being unable to type due to his advanced illness.

29 October 2002

They asked me to write a few lines about breathing. Why me? Maybe it’s because in a few weeks I shall have had eighty seven years practice. Breathe in! Breathe out. Breathe in! Breathe out! Boring!

Mind you, breathing runs in the family. My father, who was gassed on the Somme fought a losing battle against it. Years later, in the Western Desert I had a couple of breathing “episodes”.A Jerry bomber got lucky with a direct hit on my tent burying me and a couple of other RAF erks alive. Fortunately, it was soft sand and we managed to scramble out to tell the tale.

Later, having driven Rommel out of Libya I decided to take a swim in the placid Med only to find myself being sucked down by a voracious whirlpool. I was on the point of breathing my last when a sergeant of the Tees and Tyne’s, obviously a stronger swimmer than me, pulled me out and left me gasping on the beach.

Not that all the breathing associations are negative. Jimmy Greaves dribbling past four men then nutmegging the goalie. Breathtaking! The Wimbledon final between Borg and McEnroe, rally after rally of breath- taking tennis. And the breath-taker of them all, Maria Callas singing the title roles in Bellini’s Norma, Verdi’s Traviata and Puccini's Tosca.

My attitude to breathing changed dramatically when a number of high-powered consultants send me a message “Come in XYZ (me) your time is up”. They diagnosed lung cancer, emphysema, an aneurysm of the aorta and angina, to mention but a few. Thus proving what I have long suspected, that I, like Aristotle, am mortal.

Since the same consultants had dubbed me “an unsuitable case for treatment “ I had to devise an alternative strategy regarding death. Easy. I do my best not to think about it; to carry on as near as possible with the way I normally live.

I do not want to know how many shopping days I have to Xmas. On the other hand my family will expect me to make the brandy butter as ever and I’ll not let them down. Again I don’t anticipate inviting my friends to watch the next World Cup in four years time but I do intend to be present at my grandson’s barmitsva in the Spring. This modus vivendi , however, relies upon my breathing and that’s when my wife comes in. She drives me to parks, the Heath and other greeneries where, after walking fifty yards, I sit down, gulp air and listen to the birds.

Breathe in! Breathe out! Breathe in! Breathe out! Congratulations! Brilliant!

This breaks my heart. That's a sign that I still have one. Thank you for that.

 

[carsonshepherd]

This breaks my heart. That's a sign that I still have one. Thank you for that.

Pain reminds us we can still feel....

 

[shereads]

Almost two years, and it still hurts like hell.

Oh, yes, it does. But thank god for that. It would be awful not to be missed. It would be the worst thing, not to be missed and mourned.

What a beautiful way to honor his memory: with his words.

If only. If only.

 

[CharleyH]

This is a short piece by my father who died yesterday of lung cancer, aged 87. It was done at the request of the hospice who were caring for him, when they learned he had been a professional writer (journalism, then TV and film) for fifty years.

He dictated this, improptu, to my mother,being unable to type due to his advanced illness.

29 October 2002

They asked me to write a few lines about breathing. Why me? Maybe it’s because in a few weeks I shall have had eighty seven years practice. Breathe in! Breathe out. Breathe in! Breathe out! Boring!

Mind you, breathing runs in the family. My father, who was gassed on the Somme fought a losing battle against it. Years later, in the Western Desert I had a couple of breathing “episodes”.A Jerry bomber got lucky with a direct hit on my tent burying me and a couple of other RAF erks alive. Fortunately, it was soft sand and we managed to scramble out to tell the tale.

Later, having driven Rommel out of Libya I decided to take a swim in the placid Med only to find myself being sucked down by a voracious whirlpool. I was on the point of breathing my last when a sergeant of the Tees and Tyne’s, obviously a stronger swimmer than me, pulled me out and left me gasping on the beach.

Not that all the breathing associations are negative. Jimmy Greaves dribbling past four men then nutmegging the goalie. Breathtaking! The Wimbledon final between Borg and McEnroe, rally after rally of breath- taking tennis. And the breath-taker of them all, Maria Callas singing the title roles in Bellini’s Norma, Verdi’s Traviata and Puccini's Tosca.

My attitude to breathing changed dramatically when a number of high-powered consultants send me a message “Come in XYZ (me) your time is up”. They diagnosed lung cancer, emphysema, an aneurysm of the aorta and angina, to mention but a few. Thus proving what I have long suspected, that I, like Aristotle, am mortal.

Since the same consultants had dubbed me “an unsuitable case for treatment “ I had to devise an alternative strategy regarding death. Easy. I do my best not to think about it; to carry on as near as possible with the way I normally live.

I do not want to know how many shopping days I have to Xmas. On the other hand my family will expect me to make the brandy butter as ever and I’ll not let them down. Again I don’t anticipate inviting my friends to watch the next World Cup in four years time but I do intend to be present at my grandson’s barmitsva in the Spring. This modus vivendi , however, relies upon my breathing and that’s when my wife comes in. She drives me to parks, the Heath and other greeneries where, after walking fifty yards, I sit down, gulp air and listen to the birds.

Breathe in! Breathe out! Breathe in! Breathe out! Congratulations! Brilliant!

Thought this a Kate Bush dedication

Those who know will not be offended

 

[sincerely_helene]

 

[mismused]

Almost two years, and it still hurts like hell.

=========================================

Joe,

I was very touched by your writing back then, and can understand how you feel now. To me, it is sad, yes, but also makes me wonder a bit.

You probably know all this, but in case you didn't, or didn't think of it in this manner, perhaps it will give you a different sense to add to all the wonderful feelings you have now that go alongside those that sadden you.

A mathematical calculation was done on the oxygen atoms we breathe in, and the number of oxygen atoms thought to be in existence on this earth. Like other atoms, oxygen is reused, or recycled, if you will. The calculation expressed the likelihood of us breathing in of the same oxygen that was Caesar's last breath, that each of us "are taking in on average about 3 of the oxygen atoms in Caesar's last breath in each of your breaths." ("Atom," Lawrence M. Krauss, p. 241)

If that is true of Caesar's last breath (or any breath), then it must hold equally true for anyone's breath, and that is so stated later.

If you think of it in this manner, isn't it wonderful that with each breath you take, you are breathing of the same rarified air that your father breathed?

Hope you find this comforting. If not, please forgive.

mismused

 

[minsue]

 

[NoJo]

Bump for Dad's Centenary.

 

[LIVINRFANTASIES]

Den

Thanks for the bump Joe. We'd never seen this post. Keep breathing and remembering your great times with dad.
When the last breath comes we can rest. I don't believe I'll make it ten more years but will keep on breathing as long as I can.

 

[glynndah]

Bump for Dad's Centenary.

 

[AMoveableBeast]

Incredibly touching.

 

[NaokoSmith]

Bump for Dad's Centenary.

Very moving piece of writing.

 

[NaokoSmith]

This has brought tears, Joe... your father was a brilliant man who was lucky enough to breathe a long, long time...

lost my own to the breathing disease 15 years ago this week, he was only 42...

your dad would be proud of you and your boys

 

[Ewobbit]

Appreciate the bump NoJo. I, too, missed this the first couple of times around.

I know a little something about no longer being able to take for granted that which you once did, so it hit a particularly poignant note for me to read your father's words.

I wonder how he felt about the Nike "Just Do It" slogan...

Thank you, again, for resharing with us Johnny Come Latelys.

 

[legerdemer]

 

[NoJo]

A belated bump for my mother's centenary.

My parents had the kind of marriage you read about, and I've never been able to achieve -- built on physical attraction, friendship, shared passion for art, literature and music, and strong political beliefs forged in the heat of war, and an unquenchable optimism born out of tough childhoods spent in stark poverty,

 

[TarnishedPenny]

Sorry for your loss, honoured by having been able to have read that.

 

[Kumquatqueen]

Just read this, and seen that it's from 2005, but it's still a powerful piece of writing. Very poignant. Happy birthday to Jo's mum.

 

[nice90sguy]

Just read this, and seen that it's from 2005, but it's still a powerful piece of writing. Very poignant. Happy birthday to Jo's mum.

2003.

Re-reading now, I'm struck by the number of ex-litters I used to know really well here; I met more than one of them in RL; it was really friendly then, and more flirty than now. Nojo posted his surprise that, after his loss, one of the first places he felt he could share his grief was this forum. I hope others here can feel that way too.

 

[Kumquatqueen]

2003.

Re-reading now, I'm struck by the number of ex-litters I used to know really well here; I met more than one of them in RL; it was really friendly then, and more flirty than now. Nojo posted his surprise that, after his loss, one of the first places he felt he could share his grief was this forum. I hope others here can feel that way too.

I certainly post here because it's mostly a supportive friendly space full of geeks. Sure, there's a bunch of people who will rant away on certain topics and you're left thinking 'shit, who put 50p in the idiot this time?', but even most of them have their other moments.