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Tuesday 2 October 2018

Finding time to grieve.

About this time last week, I left my mum sleeping fairly peacefully while the sun set through her care home bedroom window. Next morning at 5 she died.
It wasn't a surprise. My mum was 97, had been suffering from dementia for several years, and this summer marked a real downturn in her health. Doctors had warned there was nothing they could do, and one morning we received the 'come quickly' phone call that we'd been dreading, then spent three anxious days sitting by mum's bedside - but there's a world of difference between expecting such an event, and it actually occurring.

Since then, life has been one long whirlwind, chasing round trying to keep up with all the bureaucracy that follows death. Instead of taking time to come to terms with the shock, we had to be out and about visiting doctors, funeral directors, and registrars. There are forms to be filled, decisions to be made - about flowers, cars, a notice in the local paper, what we'd like to do with the ashes (fortunately my dad seemed better prepared for some of these than I was). Neighbours and distant relatives have to be informed. Wardrobes had to be checked for suitable funeral attire, and my dad taken on a shopping trip for new shoes. I've learned about official 'registry' ink (it turns from blue to black as it dries, and etches the words into the paper). For the first time ever, I've been into the pub next door to the house I grew up in. And one day, wanting to be sure we'd got funeral arrangements and memorials sorted exactly as my dad wants, we went to visit the local churchyard. I remember playing there as a child, when it was overrun with long grass which hid grass snakes; now it's looked after by the council, the grass is regularly cut, and presumably the snakes have gone elsewhere, but it's far bleaker and windier than I remember.
It's left me feeling like one of those cartoon characters run over by a steamroller - an absolutely flat, two dimensional, cardboard cut-out of a person. And in amongst all this there seems to have been little time to grieve.


Evening has been the only free part of the day, and by then I've just been ready to flop on a sofa and sleep. I've always found though that getting outside, either pottering round the garden or walking, helps reduce stress for me, so one day, in last week's strangely warm weather, I went out dog walking at sunset, and collected seeds from ash, beech, sweet chestnut, and rowan which, along with a conker from the care home car park, will hopefully grow into a bonsai remembrance wood for my mum.


Through all this, my favourite support group, social media, has been there with sympathy, virtual hugs, love, and advice, and I can't thank everyone enough for all their support.

We've now reached a hiatus. All the immediate paperwork is sorted, but the funeral can't be held for several weeks. It's a strange, numb time, and, although I feel comparatively ok for now, I fear grief is waiting like a huge 'seventh wave' to rush back in.





10 comments:

  1. I'm sorry to hear about your loss, it looks like you've had a long journey with your mum's illness. Grief affects everyone differently and as you mentioned, in waves. I think that having people around who can support you act like a surfboard to help you ride those waves, you may get dumped and soaking but as long as you have something to cling to you'll be fine. Lovely that you still have your dad and the bonsai idea is wonderful. I loved this post so I am adding it to the #blogcrush linky this week as my favourite post of the week.

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    1. It has indeed been a long journey but Mum's last few months were comfortable and safe. As you can imagine, this was a hard post to write, thank you for making it your favourite of the week x

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  2. Heartfelt condolences Mary. I know how much time you have spent this year caring for both mum and dad and this must have been so difficult for you to write my love. I totally understand what you are saying about the busy period that follows in terms of arrangements leaving little time to grieve in the early days of losing a loved one. It sounds as though you have taken care of everyone’s wishes though and mum will have a lovely and fitting send off. Such a shame the funeral is delayed, I feel for you having to wait. I’ve always felt that a funeral gives an element of closure allowing space to grieve in our own time and way. It’s a very surreal time, I remember it well - everything is done on auto pilot when you feel all out of strength to complete the formalities. What a grand age mum was though. A great-grandmother too this year. Take all the time you need to grieve, it does come in waves. But you will find that the most wonderful memories come about at this time too. Cherish them. Sending huge love and strength your way and thank you for sharing your lovely words and thoughts with us here on the linky xxx

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    1. Thank you, Nicky. It's a strange time, and not as I expected. Dad has been spending a lot of time going through old photos and his home-movies (now on dvd) and recalling a lot of memories I'd never heard before. How he'll cope long-term is another challenge to be faced ...

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  3. You've really captured something here. I was young when I lost my parents and wasn't really aware with my dad but certainly after my mum died there was so much admin and appointments I barely even had time to catch my own thoughts , let alone process them. I hope things calm down a little for you soon.
    Congratulations !! Someone loved this post so much they added it to our #BlogCrush linky!

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    1. Part of me wonders if the paperwork help get us through the first few days when otherwise we'd be overcome. It certainly distracted me. There's obviously still a huge hole in our lives but now things seem to have slowed down the shock seems to have disappeared. Thank you for dropping by and commenting xxx

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  4. Sorry to hear your sad news, Mary. Grief sure is exhausting and can surprise us even when it’s expected. Take care.

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    1. Thank you, Anne. It's a sad, strange time but I'm gradually finding my feet again x

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  5. I am so sorry for your loss Mary, I know that the past year or so has not been easy for your family. You have provided a very touching and accurate description of the process following a bereavement here. I hope that you truly can take a step back and allow yourself time to grieve in your own way. You are so wonderfully self aware and I know that you will find a way through it that is best for you. Sending love, light and strength xxx

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    1. Thank you, Sharon xxx It's been an emotional, painful time, but I think we're now starting to, not so much 'get over' Mum's death, as move on to another phase of grief. Caring and visiting took up so much of our day-to-day lives, though, that everything feels strange now. The kindness and support from social media has been amazing though. I can't thank everyone enough xxx

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