Grieving Beloved Parents

I am not entirely sure why, but I felt moved by the Coronavirus Pandemic and its death toll, particularly stories of young people facing the reality of unexpected deaths of loved ones, especially parents, to write this long piece on Medium about death, loss, and grief. 

I am, usually, quite a guarded person on life, generally, and family, in particular.  I realise that I periodically appear on radio and television, and in news media, in respect of matters of public controversy.  However, whatever we each may do with our lives, I still believe that all of us should have a private sphere of our own, known only unto God.  For my part, I would never have believed in November 2019 that I would be writing an essay on grief in November 2020 concerning my beloved and deeply missed mother and father. Spared the anxiety of worrying about vulnerable parents during the pandemic in 2020, I thought I would try to help anyone now finding themselves in the position that I was in a decade-plus earlier.

I found writing a reflection on losing my beloved parents to have been the hardest thing that I have ever written. In a sense, yes, of course, this is how it should be. Yet, even so, it was extraordinarily hard. There is nothing I would change about the piece. It is the writing that I would have liked to have read long ago. 

In writing the Medium piece, I learned a good deal about myself, as well as the process of writing.  I have always realised that few people will like all of the writing that you do.  I sent my piece to some close friends for their comment, who told me they found it very hard to read and finish, which was understandable to me, particularly as they all had their parents still in good health.  A very helpful suggestion, that I acted upon, was to digitally record my reading it, so people could treat it like a podcast and listen in stages.

As I tried to get across in my writing, there is nothing particularly special about my story. I am not any sort of victim - other people have lost both parents at even earlier ages, while many others have living parents that they do not get on with. The only reason my story matters to me is that it happened to me – and that it concerns my own parents, who I love and miss, every day.  I was the much youngest child in our family, I was very close to my parents, I looked after them until their passings, and, thus, I feel, whatever else I may know about, I know what it is like to see your beloved parents leave this life.  Our parents teach us everything except how to live without them.

As a Catholic, in common with many people of differing faiths, I do not believe that this life is our end but rather only the beginning of our journey. I suspect some, or, indeed, all, of this comes through in my writing.  Losing our parents is so very hard, but those who we lose, we will see, again.  I certainly believe that about my late mother and my late father.  I have also felt the presence of my mother and my father in my life, at various times since each passed, as a sign from a merciful and loving God that nothing, especially death, can separate us. 

A particular benefit to me in writing this piece, which I did not expect, was the surprisingly large number of people who read it, and who have since made contact with me. I was touched to find people who went through similar losses, and who said how closely they related to my own particular experience, even as we had never met. I also heard from people who never really had anyone to listen to them, or who was thought by their friends to be doing alright in all the circumstances, who was, instead, still in so precarious a state. I was thankful, also, to those who had been spared such pain as yet but who had passed my Medium piece onto a friend or relative who was navigating their own way through the gloomy wilderness of grief and loss. If, as Alfred, Lord Tennyson, wrote in his poem Ulysses, we are all a part of those we have met, then, so, too, do our writings form an arch through which we go to meet countless others and learn of their experiences, even when separated by places and times.

For my part, I was glad, so very glad, to have had the opportunity to write of loving parents, of how I learned to live with losing them from this life, and, for me anyway, to reminisce, even if at times with sadness. 

None of us knows what someone else is going through, or what heavy crosses they bear.  We, in particular, do not know who is coping and, more importantly, who is not coping.  All that we can do, especially those of us who have already been through the very worst, is to lend to the grieving a strong, if prematurely hardened, shoulder, and a most sympathetic and kind ear–and to show them that there is a way forward, however monstrously difficult it may seem to them, as, indeed, it seemed to us.  

We are all but pilgrims here, and we must do our best, we must persevere, and we must run our race until its end, knowing that those we love and miss, so much, are watching us, hopefully always proudly, and willing us on. We may only see through a glass, darkly - but then we will see, again, face to face.

The Russian Problem

Almost a month ago, I wrote a piece for the Sydney Morning Herald on the Russian invasion of Ukraine and understanding the Russians, both as an adversarial power, and on their own terms as the historic Russia.  In some ways, it was a follow-on from my longer 2018 post here on the Russians.

As I have found out, partly to my amusement and partly to my disappointment, that one cannot have any perspective on the Russian problem that differs one iota from whatever is the conventional wisdom.  This is less about criticism, per se, than the sheer pride taken by so many in media and punditry in their complete ignorance of the Russians and, particularly, Russian strategic and military culture.  One could spend one's entire life attempting to counter, or even just contrast, so much of the current deluge of quite pathetic analysis of Russia with facts, and yet pass from this life with that task still a boulder that Sisyphus himself would mock you for trying to carry. 

The only ways forward in respect of Russia (as with China and Iran - also 'old countries' with historic claims of security domains) is, as regards the diplomacy:

1. understanding historic and current geography: boundaries past and present, component ethnic and religious groups, trade routes, enduring defence and security interests;  
2. recognising where common interests may lie, in which we can work together; and
3. recognising where our interests conflict - and trying to find ways to minimise those conflicts or, at least, mediate or arbitrate them, or disagree about them short of war.

In pursuing the above, the beginning of wisdom is recognising that Russia (like China and Iran) is an imperial and hegemonic power, with whom we will usually, if not always, have problems.  Russia - again, like China and Iran - will never be a 'normal country'.  Always maintaining a realistic perspective and only very modest expectations would help mitigate the swings and roundabouts of Western relations with the Russians, that seem to, always, be incapable of being anything other than the breathtakingly naïve or the irresponsibly bellicose, resulting in either unwise concessions or fevered hawkishness.

In saying this, yes, ideology does play a role here.  There will be revisionist powers that, ideologically, care only about extending their interests in respect of (1) and who do not care about (2) and (3). There will be, at times, adversaries with contempt for agreements and treaties, and no respect for concepts of legitimacy.  There may even be times for actions short of war.

However, if one's issue is that a revision is being sort by a nation-state, the first order question that is worth asking is, 'What actually is being revised?'  One should bear in mind with old countries, especially those that are great powers, or have been great powers and wish to be so again, is that they have long memories.  I am not usually given to quoting Edmund Burke but one must remember that not only do your adversaries get a vote in what the international order looks like, but their dead and as yet unborn, will, through the living, get a vote, too.  Not everyone lives in the now - and not everyone is historically illiterate - even if the West, too often is, sadly, both.  What if what you consider to be unable to be resolved without war, actually can be by diplomacy?  Where is the shame in discussions and negotiations?  And, if ideological powers during both war and peace could nonetheless still participate in the international order in the 20th century, and be negotiated with - on subjects from nuclear weapons to trade to space - then surely we should try this, also, now, rather than contribute to circumstances that may lead to future wars of unspeakable brutality and human tragedy?

By nature and intellectual inclination, I favour my own country, Australia, and our Western allies, having very large military establishments and enduring defence industrial bases, sufficient to deter aggressors and secure necessary interests - but which are used sparingly.  In other words, I may be a 'militarist' but I am most certainly no warmonger.  Resort to war should be the very last tool of statecraft - and war, once commenced, must be pursued, quickly and ruthlessly, with overwhelming force, to achieve a victory settlement that will ensure a long peace. Unless one is fully prepared to wage war, speedily and relentlessly - and, realistically, your reluctance to do so should almost always be the case - then our practice should be to engage in vigorous diplomacy, including diplomacy to avert wars by engaging in sensible and practical negotiation and compromise, by joining with allies in dialogue with adversaries. The effluxion of time by patient and calm reasoning may also see new generations come to power in adversaries, who may yet see matters differently.  In any event, it seems stupid not to first try such an approach, with a velvet glove overlaying any mailed fist.  

As Thucydides said in his magisterial history of the Peloponnesian War, "Of all manifestations of power, restraint impresses men most."