That which is filthy can be washed, and made clean, and redeemed. But that which is filth itself cannot be made clean: for if it is washed, all of it will be removed and nothing remain. It is fit only to be cast into the midden, or consumed by fire.
‘After the real world has passed away’
15 March 2015 by 8 Comments
After the death of his wife, Edith, J. R. R. Tolkien wrote to his son Michael:
I do not feel quite ‘real’ or whole, and in a sense there is no one to talk to.… Since I came of age, and our 3 years separation was ended, we had shared all joys and griefs, and all opinions (in agreement or otherwise), so that I still often find myself thinking ‘I must tell E. about this’ – and then suddenly I feel like a castaway left on a barren island under a heedless sky after the loss of a great ship. I remember trying to tell Marjorie Incledon this feeling, when I was not yet thirteen after the death of my mother, and vainly waving a hand at the sky saying ‘it is so empty and cold’. And again I remember after the death of Fr Francis my ‘second father’ (at 77 in 1934), saying to C. S. Lewis: ‘I feel like a lost survivor into a new alien world after the real world has passed away’.
(Letters no. 332)
I am sad to report that these descriptions of feelings fit me rather exactly. My mother was a difficult person to deal with, and nearly impossible to talk to; she had the fixed habit of listening to the first half-dozen words that you said, ignoring the rest, and then responding to what she imagined you might have said; and she had a short and fearsome temper. Our relationship could be charitably described as ‘fraught’; yet one has, as a rule, only one mother, and whatever she may be, one feels the loss when she is gone. My father was my chief friend, supporter, and confidant for many years, and I still miss him terribly. Now that I have lost them both, and in rapid succession, I feel rather like the little girl from London in the Second World War, who was interviewed by a reporter after losing her home and family in the Blitz: ‘Now I am nobody’s nothing.’ It is a disorienting and indeed frightening feeling.
A postscriptum about practical matters: It will probably take some months to settle my parents’ affairs, but once that is done I can expect to come into a small inheritance, which if used frugally, will keep the wolf from the door for some time while I get my bearings and (I hope) find a way to make my work pay my bills. I thank all those generous donors who have helped me through my recent difficulties with gifts of money (and still more, of time, attention, and care). I believe I shall be all right for the time being.
Maria Auxiliadora Shearer, 1927–2015
15 March 2015 by 11 Comments
I am sad to report that my mother died about 4 p.m. (MDT) yesterday. I managed to pay her a short visit before the end; she was drifting in and out of consciousness, unable to speak, and I am not sure whether she recognized me. She seemed to have suffered a stroke or some other cerebral catastrophe, for all the muscle tone had gone out of her face, and her lower lip had curved back in on itself to cover her gums. Her face was unrecognizable; it was the characteristic pattern of the arthritis in her right hand (the left was under the bedclothes) that proved to me that I was in the right room.
She had been married to my father for 52 years, and had no desire to outlive him; and indeed she took such poor care of herself (being a fairly heavy smoker and drinker for as long as I can remember, and disdaining to eat regular meals) that we were surprised she lived as long as she did. Once my father was gone, she went into what soon proved to be a terminal decline. At any rate she is at peace now, for the first time in many years; God rest her soul.
Thanks very much for all the prayers and messages from my 3.6 Loyal Readers and other friends.
The other shoe drops
13 March 2015 by 12 Comments
I have just been notified that my mother has received Extreme Unction and is expected to die at any time. A family friend is picking me up shortly to go and see her.
I will be grateful for the prayers of my 3.6 Loyal Readers.
When fusion bombs
25 February 2015 by 8 Comments
I have just returned from my G.P. pro tem, with news from my various tests and things. My cholesterol is high and my thyroid is low, both of which are treatable with common sense and a bit of Synthroid. My neck troubles are more serious: in fact, probably incurable. It seems that somehow two of my cervical vertebrae have fused together, probably by the improper healing of a slight fracture sustained when I fell down the stairs a couple of years ago. So I can expect my limited range of neck movement, and my recurring pains, to go on for the rest of my days; unless someone comes up with a treatment for cracking the bones apart and rebuilding the joint between (without damaging the spinal cord in the process).
No Sir, no Ma’am, spinal fusion is not what the kids till recently called ‘the bomb’; especially when done, not by a surgeon, but by a flight of ice-covered concrete stairs. At least I shall be able to bore people, when all other boring topics fail, with boring stories about my broken neck.
Checking in
29 January 2015 by 6 Comments
Just to let the Loyal 3.6 know—
I have recently been ill, with some combination of allergies, sinusitis, and cabin fever. This all got me down sufficiently to make my depression kick in at full strength; so that yesterday it actually hurt to breathe. I was having cramps in my diaphragm and actually had to lie down and consciously concentrate in order to take one breath after another. My depression has manifested itself in this way before, but yesterday’s bout was uncommonly severe.
I do feel substantially better today, and may try to do some writing once I have found myself some food. (The larder is a bit bare at the moment, because I have not been well enough to do any shopping. Before anyone asks, yes, I have enough money to do the shopping; it is health and energy that have been wanting.)
—will now be a brief intermission—
25 December 2014 by Leave a Comment
Rather, there just has been. Cut for medical TMI: [Read more…]
Christmas letter
25 December 2014 by 9 Comments
Dear Theophilus,
It is long since I have written to you, for which I beg your forgiveness, and much has happened. I was furnished by the astounding generosity of my 3.6 Loyal Readers, plus benefactors I had not known of, with the funds to get a proper set of book covers done for the Orchard; only I have no book to wrap them round, for I have been ill and stymied. Ill, not only with my usual maladies, but with a recurrent flu, which may be the same germ that turned into pneumonia when my father got it, and carried him off. (You will know, of course, through the usual channels, that he has died.) I shall speak a little of my other troubles; then, what matters more, of my efforts – and what has stymied them. [Read more…]
Thomas Clark Shearer, 1927-2014
10 December 2014 by 11 Comments
My father died of pneumonia about 2:20 this afternoon, Mountain Standard Time. He was 87, and as I have mentioned previously, in an advanced state of dementia; he had been virtually speechless for over a year.
I hope I may have more to say later, but I do not think I shall be fit to write anything for the next few days.
A reminiscence of my father
5 December 2014 by 1 Comment
The Cremation of Sam McGee
There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee.
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