Loss

Several of my close friends are attending the funeral of photojournalist Tim Hetherington in London today. He was killed suddenly last month on 20th April 2011 while covering the conflict in Libya. Although I didn’t personally know him I have been affected by the tragedy of his death because my friends are suffering and it is a sad reminder of loss which I have experienced in my own life. No family wants to bury one of their children and I feel for his parents who must dread today like no other. My own parents had to bury my younger brother Charlie when he was thirteen years old and died very unexpectedly from lymphoma. To say it turned our lives upside down and inside out is an understatement and I don’t think one ever really recovers from the experience of loss. The pain is immense and the sense that nothing will ever be the same pervades your every thought for a very long time. You just cannot believe that the person you love will not walk through the door and say hello to you again. It’s horrible. And the trouble is that they really are gone – forever – and that is the hardest thing to face. 

I wish we didn’t have to deal with loss in life but it is part of the experience of living and is one of the things I have had to learn over the years to accept. It acts as a sharp reminder to live in the moment and it forces one to seize the day and live life as fully as possible because one never knows when it may disappear. I wish this made me feel heroic but it’s simply the way I approach life. It’s not always easy to be positive as life often throws awful curved balls at one and I have often felt profoundly depressed and overwhelmed by the uncertainty of life. But this aspect of life has definitely taught me to be spontaneous and to run with the ball when it comes my way. These painful experiences, although not welcome, do give a certain depth to my perception of what life is all about and I am deeply grateful and happy about all the good things that have happened to me as well.

Oh yes and Tim’s work was brilliant! He was extremely talented. That’s the other thing that hurts about someone like Tim dying at such a young age. He was 40 years old. As a picture editor I really appreciate seeing good work and his was outstanding. Intelligent and perceptive he certainly knew how to create a powerful image. He won the World Press Photo Award in 2008 for his work documenting a unit of American soldiers in Afghanistan and earlier this year he was nominated for an Academy Award for his documentary film Restrepo, which centred on the same American unit in Afghanistan. According to my friends Tim was a very charismatic and charming fellow and of course everyone who met him was a little bit in love with him. 

This poem by Ben Johnson was given to us by a close friend of the family when Charlie died. Sometimes it helps to know that it is the quality of life that matters and not the enduring length that we normally expect for those we love.

The Turne

It is not growing like a tree

In bulk, doth make man better be;

Or standing long an oak, three-hundred year,

To fall a log at last, dry, bald and sere.

A lily of a day,

Is fairer far in May,

Although it droop and die that night,

It was the plant and flow'r of light.

In small proportions we just beauties see;

And in short measures, life may perfect be.

My thoughts are with Tim’s family and friends today.