Last night there was a power outage in our neighbourhood. The lights flickered and then it went pitch black. We didn’t know what was happening. Thank goodness Mummy had her iPhone torch to help us manoeuvre our way around the flat – lighting candles in every room. We sat in the dark while Mummy rationalised that since we don’t know when the power will come back on, she should eat up the rest of the ice-cream in the freezer or they would melt.
We asked her if we should eat up all our Honey’s food in the freezer too – to which she answered – don’t be ridiculous!
May’s comment: The lights flickered and then darkness for a moment –as we regained familiarity. I wasn’t totally surprised as a neighbour had experienced outage just hours ago and it seemed to have hit my “patch” just then. So I thought it’s a good time to walk the dogs and clear the head.
It was only just moments before when I had read an email which at first I thought was a joke. The subject was – “R.I.P. Craig Coman – the greatest osteopath in the UK.” That was until I opened it to read the content. My heart felt achingly empty and a sense of disbelief and great sadness to think that I would no longer see Craig again. He was one of my guiding lights.
When we came home form our walk, we lit a candle in every room – thank goodness for the scented candles trend – otherwise in this day and age why would we need candles. Since there was no electricity to power up the computer and no lights to read, I sat in the living room with my doggies (to eat the ice cream). They have been nervously alert when the lights all went out in an instant – not understanding what had just happened. As we sat in the darkness except for the flickering candle flame in that room, I thought about Craig – what a loss to all who knew him.
Craig came into my life quite unplanned. He started off as my osteopath at Chelsea Natural Health Clinic because my masseuse there had suggested I should see him for my aches and pains. But during those healing sessions, we also talked about life and things that mattered. I had not known he was also a life coach.
I was at my lowest ebb when we started having our conversations – though I didn’t know it then. He patiently listened and listened to my “stories.” And I relished in telling my stories again and again. Till one day, I was tired of talking about myself. Craig looked at me and smiled. That was when I was on my way to getting out of my “valley”.
After that, I saw him less and less. I was healing. In fact the last time I saw him, he asked me to list down what is it “I want” and what is it “I need.” I never finished that list (and still haven’t) and never went back to see him – because I couldn’t figure it out.
Then one day he told his clients he was returning to Oz. Despite the distance, he remembered to send a message via Skype on my birthday. The last time I heard from him was in April 2015. We exchanged several messages over a few days. He asked how’s the dog to which I replied – it’s now dogs! He asked about the blog and wanted to read it. He said – we must get together for a coffee when he next comes to London for speaking engagements. Yes, we must, I wrote back. But he never came.
In July, Craig found out he had a brain tumour. I didn’t know because I never followed up. He passed away on the 29th December. He was only 51. I got the news last night. My heart aches – that I will never see Craig again, that I will not have him listen to me and my stories. He saw me through a difficult time in my life – I know how much he had helped me though I have never told him so – because it was a paid service. I feel the loss of a very special person. While I grief for selfish reasons, I also know the world has lost one of the nicest human beings in the world. I am thankful and feel blessed to have known him. Craig Coman was special.
His passing also reminded me to not take for granted that friends will always be around. This is the second person I know in the last three years who I said we must get together and never did – and then they were gone.
As I shared this sadness on my Facebook, another friend urged me to – “Speak to him still. An angel hears.”
Just like the flickering lights that left us in darkness for a moment till we regained familiarity, hearing that Craig had gone forever felt like that. One of my guiding lights had been put out forever but friends came along to shed some light on the matter. All those friends who reached out were the candles in every room.
Thank you, Craig for your patience in letting me talk obsessively about me. Thank you for then knowing how to make me stop talking. You helped me switch on the lights and saw that the world around me is not all dark. You always had a mischievous grin even when I thought life was S***! And after talking to you each time, I always walked away lighter. I knew someone cared. You are not gone because you live in my memory. And I will still talk to you.