Wholly Human **

Wholly Human

It was as though he knew it was coming. Death had been stalking him, breathing down his neck, making him solemn, weighing him down. Something had changed, and there was nothing he could do about it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

10/12/1998

As my time draws closer I start to prepare myself. I don’t tell Emilie, of course, she would start to worry, stop me living out the rest of my life.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

22/10/1998

It’s this thing growing inside me. I know it’s there, even if I can’t see it. At first I tried to ignore it; when it hurt, I willed the pain to go away. But no matter how strongly I denied its existence, the invasion continued to spread through my body. A lump grew, small enough not to be noticed by Emilie, but hard enough to be real. The monster was never just what I could see, it was the growth deep within me, clutching at my lungs and stomach, clinging on like a sea urchin to a vessel. I didn’t need to go to the doctor to have it confirmed. He would just give me medicine that would make me feel worse. I knew I would die, but by carrying on with normal life, I didn’t have to face up to the C word. Not yet.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

26/12/1998 – 4.05am

The day that I looked death in the face was the day that everything really started to happen. I had awoken from a dream in which I died and saw God and Satan. Like King Hamlet, I was stranded between Heaven and Hell, between death and life. I got out of bed without waking Emilie. I needed to be alone for a while, before the day fully arrived.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

5.00am

I sit alone in my armchair, enjoying the comfort brought by its familiarity on a day when I know that everything will change. Will it happen overnight? Will I see in another morning with my wife? I think about God, Heaven, Hell. And my family. My love for Emilie and the children is, I believe, the right sort: unconditional, gentle and forgiving. Some men love with a firmer hand: through fear and power. But Emilie is strong, she does not need me to be dominant, to scare her into submission. So I do not worry about the children, I know Emilie can look after them alone. But I still hate to leave them, all of them. I have never been a man of prayer, but now I find myself praying, like I have nothing else to cling to. Desperately pleading that God will keep them safe when I am gone.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

6.45am

It seems strange, knowing that I will die somehow makes me feel more alive than ever. It is as though each heartbeat is a clock, ticking away the time until my death. Again I find myself praying the prayer of Christ himself: My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

7.30am

And now my clock reads seven thirty, and I know I must treat today like any other day, until it finally happens and I can pretend no longer. The show must go on.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Time of death, 20.30. Oscar Ekdahl died with his family by his side, a smile in his heart. Oscar is to be remembered by a plaque at his theatre, which will read The Man Who Carried On.

                I found his diary on his armchair when I got back from the hospital. And it broke my heart. He knew what was coming, and he did not warn us. He had time to pray, to weep, to accept his death, and then he left. He knew this thing was taking over, destroying his body. But he couldn’t tell me, his own wife. And that is why I cry. Unable to rip my body apart, my heart tears in two. It comes out in howls and screams and I don’t care who hears it. I read his diary entries again and again until finally I believe. My Oscar. My husband. Gone.

Man's Greatest Fear - For Dave

Bizarre how the world carries on
With no idea of how you feel,
Those who understand show they care
With kind, well-meaning words,
But still none of it is real.

How can anyone else unafflicted and carefree understand
The pain, and the overwhelming fear
That fills you with dread knowing the end
Might be far too near.

One man before you
Stood in front of a court,
Knowing his future was
Soon to be finished.
He knew the pain
And the terror of death,
But bore it for you,
That you may know one thing for sure
In this uncertain world,
That you will go Home,
When your purpose here is fulfilled.

Show and Tell

Show and tell
All you have learned so far,
Announce to the world
That you are exploring
Far beyond what you have known.

Show and tell
Your prizes and rewards,
Be proud of yourself
For you have earned
These acknowledgements of your learning.

But don't show, don't tell,
Your oozing battle scars,
The congealed mess you
Become when the doors close and
It's just you two again.

Don't show and don't tell,
Don't let the world
See the brutalities
That they don't want to know,
That they refuse to accept as the truth.

This is what I learned this week,
And I bring it to class,
To show and tell,
What I have learned
About the foul, bloodied mess of
Growing up.

Nothing like a cup of tea - Poem Repost

There's nothing like a cup of tea
To help you feel so very free,
Enjoy the sound the kettle makes
While you await your tea and cakes,
Savour the taste of that first sip:
Perfection even when it burns your lip.

Blame Game - repost

Why don't we fight for what we believe anymore?
We see something wrong
But do we protest?
We know the solution
To what we claim to detest
But all we can do is
Sit and complain,
Leave it to someone else
And just assign the blame.

Things are better, you say, than they used to be,
So what can be left
That is worth fighting for?
It's not enough to win the battle
If we are not willing to fight the war.
But we don't care enough,
Or we're overcome with shame,
So we leave it to someone else
And just assign the blame.

Clean hands and a Pure heart

My hands are washed,
I take no responsibility,
I am cleared of this wrongdoing
Because I absent myself from it,
My hands are washed and
My reputation intact,
Am I proud of myself?
Yes, proud to have
Left behind what happened,
Proud to be free from others'
Blame and accusatory looks.
Am I clean?
My hands may be washed
But something is still wrong,
But I've accepted no responsibility,
I am not to blame,
I have absented myself
From this wrongdoing.
But am I clean?
My hands may be washed
But something has torn,
A part of my being?
Of my heart, of my soul?
My reputation is still intact,
No human blames me
For this wrongdoing.
But am I clean?
My hands are washed,
But it has not gone away,
I still feel what I've done
Every minute, every day.
I hate to admit but I need
Someone else to wash my hands
For me, I need help to say sorry,
To accept it as my fault,
Before I can move on,
To wash another's hands,
Before I can be clean.

Why do people dislike feminism? Is it because they see 'Man-Hating'? Is it because 'feminism' has already achieved goals such as rights to work, equal pay and voting, and so there is nothing left to fight for?

I don't know all the reasons behind a general dislike of feminism, but from experience I think a lot of people see feminism as pointless. My first real introduction into modern feminism was the sense of 'All Men Are Trying To Suppress Women and Therefore Must Be Sunk From Their Higher Position'. Funnily enough, I did not like this kind of feminism. For me, it meant that men could NOT be feminist. Which is utterly ridiculous. That is like saying a white middle-class man cannot desire equality between black and white people.

But people need to look past this unappealing and often caricatured face of feminism, and see those feminist who desire EQUALITY. By that, I do not mean that women should be required to dress in a 'masculine' way, nor that men should dress in a 'feminine' way. To deny either sex of the choice for how to dress is suppressing their rights as individuals. What should change is how people perceive appearances. For example, if I choose to dress in a short skirt and high heals, I should not be subjected to catcalls and wolf-whistles. Similarly, if a man chooses to dress in a short skirt and high heals, he should not be labelled as 'gay', or 'weak' simply because of his dress sense. Nowadays, people don't call women lesbians simply because they wear trousers. But men that wear skirts (kilts aside) are suddenly derogatively labelled.

For those that say that men and women are already equal, and so feminist movements are no longer required: step outside of your society and look again at how individuals are treated. Women are less likely to get higher paid roles because there is a chance that they may need to go on maternity leave, and therefore be entitled to benefits, which cost companies a lot of money. Between a man and a woman of equal abilities, the man is more likely to get the job, because he cannot get more than two weeks of paternity leave. But what if a couple decide that, once the baby is born, the man will be the primary carer of the child, and the woman can return to work after one, maybe two weeks. He will not be entitled to paid paternity leave, even though caring for the baby leaves him jobless for six months, perhaps longer. This is not something imposed on men by Man-Hating-Feminists. This is something that happens because our Patriarchal Society tells us that Women Are The Primary Care Givers Because They Give Birth. I am sure that there are plenty of women who would happily hand over birth-giving to men, but biology prevents this. The next best thing is perhaps to hand over the early years care giving to the man. But the rights do not exist for him to do this.

I think some people are afraid of feminism, because acknowledging the need for change in society means admitting the need for change in one's own life. I do not live a perfectly unbiased life, I wear women's fashion, because I think it looks good, which is presumably because I see pictures of it in magazines, on billboards, and on other people whose looks I admire. I do not fully separate myself from society enough to prevent this kind of influence. However, I do recognise the need for change, and in small ways try and demonstrate that through the way that I live my life, and in the future perhaps the way that I raise my children.

At the end of the day, people need to have the freedom to choose. But people also need to be aware of when they are not free, rather than just blindly accepting that our world allows men and women to be equal.