May 2019: Andrew's story

It has been over 7 years since Drey first shared with me an excerpt from Thich Nhat Hanh’s book ‘Breathe, You are Alive!!!’. It is a commentary of the Sutra on the Full Awareness of Breathing (Anapanasati Sutta) and reads as follows:

·         We all have the tendency to run away from suffering. But the fact is that without suffering, there is no way to cultivate understanding and compassion. I don't want to send my friends and children to a place without suffering, because a place without suffering is a place without understanding and compassion. Without understanding and compassion, there can be no happiness.

·         A lotus can never grow without mud. So just as the mud plays a very vital role in bringing out the lotus, suffering plays a vital role in bringing understanding and compassion. When we embrace our suffering and look deeply into it, we can learn a lot.

Over the past week, I have shed a lot of tears. Tears in memory of a person who wasn’t that close to me during his life; but who has made a big impact on me following his death.

Exactly a week ago, I got the email that said ‘Andrew has sadly passed away today’. My full emotional response to the news was not immediate but unfolded slowly over the following days. It was about 6 months ago, just before Christmas, when Andrew was first diagnosed with leukaemia. He had gone for a routine eye test at the local opticians, and within days, found himself admitted in hospital with 6 weeks of hospital isolation ahead of him following his first course of chemotherapy. He broke the news to me a few weeks later, when I returned from my pilgrimage to India and Nepal. 

Perhaps due to my own life experiences, I was adamant that I wanted to be a support to him through his journey; but only if he wanted me to be there. I didn’t know what the future held for him, but regardless of what was to unfold, I wanted him to feel supported, cared for and not alone.

When I first met Andrew 4 years ago, I could see a lot of parallels in our lives. He seemed like a decent man, rebuilding his life after the breakdown of a long term relationship and moving into the same residential area that I used to live in when I was going through the same life event. He was quite open and chatty to begin with, but as the years went by, he became more and more silent and aloof. Sometimes I would only get a grunt out of him, and often I would feel that I was a disruption to his already very busy day. He would rush in a few minutes late for our appointment, and then rush off as soon as I had left.

So it was quite a change when I contacted him in February 2019, and he was quite insistent about wanting to meet me. Our clashing schedules meant that the only way we could meet was at the break of dawn. I joked that I’d have to meet him at 5am, and he was up for it! Fortunately, I was working from home that day, and so we managed to leave it till 7am.

Andrew was self-conscious about having lost his hair due to the chemotherapy and warned me about it before I went round. So I made it a point to comment that he looked a lot younger without hair, so don’t worry about it.

I had checked the house and was about to leave, but I sensed that he wanted to chat, so I stayed for a bit longer. He told me about what had happened with his diagnosis and treatment. But more importantly, he wanted to impart the valuable advice to me to go on holidays, not work so hard and to enjoy my life. He described his diagnosis as a ‘car crash’. He was happily chugging along in life and then ‘Boom!’. His life was turned upside down. He recounted how difficult it was being stuck in the hospital room for 6 weeks. Although he wasn’t physically restricted from walking out of the door, he knew that doing so would put his health at risk due to the risk of infection. The whole environment was closely controlled – the temperature, the air, his diet, etc. 

I asked him if his diagnosis had changed his outlook in life, and he replied ‘Hell, yeah’. His appreciation for life and everything he had had significantly increased.

I was late for work that day, but I felt it was more important to spend that time with him and so I would deal with the consequences later. I remember him very carefully gazing at my hands as though he was trying to memorise what I looked like. Or perhaps he was just intrigued why I was holding a single chopstick in my hand – the chopstick I had used to test the smoke alarm on the ceiling as I wouldn’t be able to reach the button otherwise. I remember coming home and thinking, I wish I had given him a hug; as I recalled having lost the opportunity to give my grandmother a hug before she passed away 22 years ago. But of course, that may not have been deemed appropriate as my relationship with Andrew was officially a professional one.

My encounter with him that day inspired me to look into platelet and bone marrow donation. Alas, I didn’t meet the minimum criteria. But still, I felt very hopeful and positive that he was going to get over this. I sent him a get well card with a very heartfelt note conveying that message.

When I told my sister about Andrew’s condition, she thought that was dreadful. Poor Andrew. Funnily, I didn’t react in the same manner. Yes, of course I wouldn’t wish for Andrew to be unwell. But I was of the opinion that it’s brilliant that he’s turned that corner, is able to see life differently, to appreciate life and to realise what is really important. A day of living in the light and really cherishing life is worth more than a decade of living in the darkness, in oblivion.

Over the weeks that ensued, I made it a point to ring him every week. We only chatted for about half an hour each time, but I wanted to give him a distraction from all the medical procedures and a connection outside of his family circle. I was hoping that if there was anything he didn’t feel able to speak with his family about, that I would provide the outlet for that. He told me about his work and how he was so grateful to that for providing him with a means of keeping his mind active. He told me about the horrible side effects of the chemo drugs. We spoke about what he would like to do when he was discharged. He told me about his brothers and how one of them had been found to be a match as a bone marrow donor. On Wednesday the 27^th of March 2019, I rung, and then texted him, but didn’t get a response. So I took it as a sign that he wanted some privacy, and stopped my weekly calls.

I thought about sending him a card, or a text before his 51^st birthday in May, but decided against it. I knew he had been expecting to be in hospital for his next course of treatment during that time. My plan was to contact him towards the end of May anyway, to arrange for the house gas safety certificate renewal. I sent him an email about it, but this time, it was his colleague AJ who replied. She advised me to ring Andrew’s partner, A. When AJ discouraged me from contacting Andrew on his mobile, I knew things were serious. It was the first time I had heard of his partner A, but I duly rung and texted her. The next day, I got a call from PR, Andrew’s brother, to say that his condition was terminal. The doctors would not say how much time he had left. As it turned out, he passed away the next day, Saturday 25 May 2019.

Andrew’s death has stopped me on my tracks. Forced me to question my own life. Revisit my values and opinions about what is important in life. 

View of Iona from the ferry

Andrew had always been keen on being present when any tradesmen were due to call round, understandably so; but when it really came to the crunch, whilst he was ill in hospital, none of that mattered anymore and hence PR told me to go ahead with the appointment in his absence.

As I hurried along with the crowd into the ferry from Oban to the Isle of Mull and Iona the next day, it struck me how pointless, meaningless and unsubstantiated everything is. Money, status, the badges of holiday destinations one has visited, the numerous holiday photos we’re obsessed about taking – what’s the point of it all when the reality is that none of it really matters when we’re on our death bed. 

So if all that is not important, what is important? To love, to care and to be kind. To be kind to everyone with whom we cross paths with because this is our only opportunity to show them love. To be present and truly listen when someone speaks to us. To be aware and grateful for every moment we have and not wither it away on frivolous activities. To get the most benefit out of our lives. To make the most of the time we have. And not to give cause for regret over hurtful things we have said or done. I felt that very strongly. Be nice. Be kind. I still find my mind drifting off as a friend drones on and on about a topic I am not interested in, but then I would remind myself – listen, really listen to what she/he has to say. Let them know that they matter.

Andrew's photo of Tan Hill Inn in 2015

On my way back from Oban, I made it a point to detour to the North Yorkshire Dales. Many years ago, Andrew and I had spoken about the Tan Hill Inn. I have always wanted to visit it, but had never made the journey there. Andrew had sent me a photo of Tan Hill Inn on one of his day trips out on his motorcycle. Despite the pouring rain and fading daylight, I was adamant to make my way there and raise a glass in his memory.

Andrew hadn’t written a will, and so his brother has to apply for a probate. The process can be long and drawn out over many months. It has impressed upon me how important it is to get my own affairs in order so as not to leave a trail of paperwork for my next of kin. Get a will in place. Declutter. Live simply. All things I already know, but never got round to.

When I spoke with SM at work about a work colleague, PB, who had passed away of a heart attack just a
week before Andrew, she commented about how unfair life is. PB had just been made redundant at work, was turning his life around by making various lifestyle changes for a healthier life and then without warning, his life ended. Once again, I viewed things differently. I responded ‘Well, I like to think that they are in a better place now’. To which SM joked ‘Yea, maybe they don’t have to put up with this horrible weather because they are above it’. I thought, maybe it is not unfair (to them). Perhaps the prospects in the afterlife are a lot better than life on earth as we know it? Perhaps PB and Andrew are looking upon us from wherever they are now and thinking ‘Awww, life is so unfair. They are stuck there whilst we are enjoying our lives here! They don’t know what they are missing out on’. 

Naturally, I have been speaking to everyone around me about Andrew’s story. In a bid to ensure that his life was not in vain, I’d like others to benefit from his experience and for me to take on board the advice he had imparted to me. I am grateful for his well intentions in wanting me to make the most of my life and not to have the same regrets he had. I am grateful for having been a part of his life, no matter how small and to have had the opportunity to have met such an honourable man. A few years ago, I had noticed that he had missed paying the rent one December. I waited for a few days, but still it didn’t arrive. All sorts of thoughts crossed my mind. Did he lose his job? Is he in financial difficulty? After some disturbed nights, I decided that I had no choice but to question him about it but will bend over backwards to help him if he was in trouble. We can come up with a payment plan or something if he was having financial difficulties. When I spoke with him about the missed payment, he was dismayed. Something must have gone awry at the bank. Within 2 hours, Andrew had gone to the bank and ensured that the money was banked in. 

View from Tan Hill Inn

In my email and phone encounters with PR over the past week, I realised that the moral values and integrity Andrew possessed was not unique to him. Both brothers are equally honourable and it is of great credit to their parents. Whilst it may not be a consolation to them having lost a son, there’s a lot to be said for the fine men they have raised.

Despite my undefinable relationship with Andrew – was it a professional relationship or one bordering on friendship? – I’m thankful for everything he and his life have taught me. We shared a common principle in life to live with integrity, good moral values and one based on well intentions. Whilst our brief exchange in life on earth has come to an end, I hope that he has moved on to a better place and maybe someday our paths will cross again.