Together
By MP on Saturday 13 December 2008, 13:35 - Journal - Permalink
It's odd how things turn out.
Rachel and I met with the undertaker, in the same room, round the same table, as we had fourteen weeks ago. We knew the drill. The undertaker was a different woman, much more matter of fact and business-like. The goal seemed to be to get things done nicely, rather than to mourn, and this seemed suitable to the occasion. We even joked several times.
The funeral is scheduled for 9:45 am on Thursday, and will be held in the same chapel we had for dad, and the service will be conducted by the same minister, who remembers mum from her church-going days. Derek and his family are flying out here again, and will be here for four or five days. Mum's brother Bob sent flowers. I feel very sorry for him; I am sure he would want to be here but he is not young either and has an ailing wife to tend to.
My mood over the last few days has been, bizarrely, quite cheerful. I've had a lot to do, both as a result of mum's death and simply because the rest of life doesn't stop on these occasions, but I've been up each morning, unweighed by misery or sorrow, and able to function quite normally. Yesterday was marked by torrential rain. I had to make several car trips and got soaked several times. It could have been an opportunity to read all sorts of pathetic fallacy into the story, but it was not. I have a real sense now of being able to move on, and I think that, when looked at objectively, this is exactly what this time is: a time to move on.
I am very heartened by the messages that have come in as comments and private emails since my last post. These are from people I have never met, but whose parallel lives have helped set mine in context at times, and whose comments over the years have added new insights into the process that none of us is ever really prepared for. Towards the end I found my preoccupation with our own family's experience precluded keeping a daily check on those of others, but it had always been good to know that someone somewhere understood something of what we were going through.
Our cousins have also been sending us their thoughts. They nearly all mention the timing. It is odd to think of mum and dad being together for so many decades and then leaving so soon one after the other. I am sure that the double blow of this year is not what anyone would have expected, and certainly not hoped for. At this time I am glad it has happened this way. There have been times when I have looked at mum, wimpering and fidgeting in mute anxious frustration and thought that this is just not worth prolonging. We had to do all we could, as her life was as sacred as any, but now that it is over, and we are still dealing with dad's death, it is satisfying that we can think of them as dying together, as they were for most of their lives.
Greg contacted the people at the crematorium, who have still not done anything with dad's ashes, and asked them to hold them until they have mum's too, and then we shall decide what to do about both. Despite my earlier avowed indifference to the matter, I think there is something good about this, too. I am not sure what, yet, but I am sure it is the right thing to do.
Rachel and I met with the undertaker, in the same room, round the same table, as we had fourteen weeks ago. We knew the drill. The undertaker was a different woman, much more matter of fact and business-like. The goal seemed to be to get things done nicely, rather than to mourn, and this seemed suitable to the occasion. We even joked several times.
The funeral is scheduled for 9:45 am on Thursday, and will be held in the same chapel we had for dad, and the service will be conducted by the same minister, who remembers mum from her church-going days. Derek and his family are flying out here again, and will be here for four or five days. Mum's brother Bob sent flowers. I feel very sorry for him; I am sure he would want to be here but he is not young either and has an ailing wife to tend to.
My mood over the last few days has been, bizarrely, quite cheerful. I've had a lot to do, both as a result of mum's death and simply because the rest of life doesn't stop on these occasions, but I've been up each morning, unweighed by misery or sorrow, and able to function quite normally. Yesterday was marked by torrential rain. I had to make several car trips and got soaked several times. It could have been an opportunity to read all sorts of pathetic fallacy into the story, but it was not. I have a real sense now of being able to move on, and I think that, when looked at objectively, this is exactly what this time is: a time to move on.
I am very heartened by the messages that have come in as comments and private emails since my last post. These are from people I have never met, but whose parallel lives have helped set mine in context at times, and whose comments over the years have added new insights into the process that none of us is ever really prepared for. Towards the end I found my preoccupation with our own family's experience precluded keeping a daily check on those of others, but it had always been good to know that someone somewhere understood something of what we were going through.
Our cousins have also been sending us their thoughts. They nearly all mention the timing. It is odd to think of mum and dad being together for so many decades and then leaving so soon one after the other. I am sure that the double blow of this year is not what anyone would have expected, and certainly not hoped for. At this time I am glad it has happened this way. There have been times when I have looked at mum, wimpering and fidgeting in mute anxious frustration and thought that this is just not worth prolonging. We had to do all we could, as her life was as sacred as any, but now that it is over, and we are still dealing with dad's death, it is satisfying that we can think of them as dying together, as they were for most of their lives.
Greg contacted the people at the crematorium, who have still not done anything with dad's ashes, and asked them to hold them until they have mum's too, and then we shall decide what to do about both. Despite my earlier avowed indifference to the matter, I think there is something good about this, too. I am not sure what, yet, but I am sure it is the right thing to do.
Comments
Mike, Hi!
Thought I'd take some catch up with your posts. I'm relating to the business talk and joking you mention...very much like my last week.
I wanted to note, because I think you'll find this curious, that my mother, a few days before her death, also continued to drink holding her cups but, as was your mom, she was quickly distracted and allowed the cups to tip, dripping the contents on her lap, sometimes, before I was able to snatch them; although she refused to use a straw until two days before her death. It is assumed, as well, that my mother died of a heart attack. Sets me to wondering...