So… Everything was arranged… A joint funeral. A joint burial… Oh, if Dad had known! All those times he had said to me “We’ll go together”… Mum died knowing this would happen, but until it was arranged, I kept thinking something would prevent it. Strangely, earlier in the year there had been an article in the newspaper about an elderly couple who had been buried together. The photo of the two identical coffins had touched me, and I’d saved a photo of it on my iPad… The couple had been born two days apart, were married for 70 years and they died within a week of each other, both of heart attacks. Thinking of my own parents’ love for each other, their devotion, had brought tears to my eyes when I read the story. That was in late March/early April – I had no idea then that less than 9 months later I would be arranging the joint funeral of my own parents.
The only thing I couldn’t do was arrange for it to be in the Chapel they wanted… The Chapel where they had met, and where they had married; it had just closed, earlier that very month. Mum knew before she died and didn’t seem to mind. I suppose it was hardly relevant to her then, anyway. Maybe it was for the best, though… I’m not at all sure how I would have coped in the church where their wedding had taken place… I think it would have been too overwhelming…things were overwhelming enough. It would be held in a more modern chapel, less than a mile away. The earliest the funeral could take place was to be 30th December, because of the Christmas holidays. That was such a blow for me, at the time; I wanted to draw a line under it… Oh! The naivety! As if I could draw a line under my parents’ lives by burying them…
The undertaker had Dad’s clothes, I’d paid the deposit and explained about the rosaries. The cost was to be just under £10,000. Yes. £10,000… Dad would “turn in his grave” as they say, if he had had one at that point, at the thought of the cost. Nothing was extravagant, everything was simple and low-key… How can it cost so much? There is no answer! One thing which inflated the price was the local Council’s policy of charging twice the standard cost of digging and then filling in a grave, despite the fact that of course, they were only going to be digging the hole once, and filling it in once, so it wasn’t as much work as two burials. I wasn’t in the mood to argue, though.
I’d stuck to my parents’ funeral requests to the letter, except they hadn’t chosen anything for at the end of the service. So, I decided to have Nat King Cole singing “Walking my Baby back home” as we walked out – it seemed appropriate in every way. My cousin had agreed to the reading as Mum had requested. The announcement would be in the newspaper… “Meet at the church, disperse at the grave” as Dad had written in his funeral book. Mum’s choice of hymn “What a Friend we have in Jesus”, Dad’s choice “How Great Thou Art”, and the one they had both chosen “The Lord is My Shepherd”. All this information the Undertakers had needed, for the Order of Service, so I was hoping the Minister would agree to my requests. I had written to her and was expecting an email/telephone call from her in the next day or two. The George Eliot quotation at the bottom of this entry seems particularly apt, so was printed on the Order of Service.
Email to my friend, 12th December 2015: – one year later
Hello,
How are you? I’ve been planning to call all week but its been crazy busy. John’s lovely parents are here for Christmas and they’re staying for a month and until a week ago there was nowhere for them to sleep. They are the kindest people you’d hope to meet. Wonderful… They don’t expect anything from us, they know we’re busy, but until last week only one bedroom was useable and we’re sleeping in there. We’ve got to tile and lay the flooring in our new bathroom by Monday when the plumber returns to fit the wc and basin and for the past 10 days we’ve worked flat out sorting out the “Maison d’Amis” for our visitors – it was unfurnished and very, very dirty.
It was fun getting things ready for their visit, but now I’m so exhausted. I’m in pieces. It’s a year today since Mum died and that thought is making me feel worse even though I didn’t think that was possible and I don’t think I can get through Christmas feeling like this without having some sort of breakdown. I was ok until the other week, the time when it all changed last year, and love where we now live. It’s so peaceful and calm after the chaos of the last two years. Ha! – two years ago, we were decorating a different house on the run up to Christmas! That seems so far away, so long ago, now. I’ve spent this last year “getting on with” things and trying not to let my parents down by crying too much, but this last week in particular it’s been worse every day. I keep having to wait and wait until I can do what I want to do and just have a few quiet days to grieve for them and to think and go over things in my mind and to accept what’s happened. But there’s always something stopping me doing that and it’s all building up inside me. And I’m not sleeping much at all. I don’t know how I’m going to get through it. I’ve kept going for 12 months but feel like a mouse on a wheel racing round and round because if I stop I don’t know how I can start again, but it’s so exhausting and it feels as if I’m about to fall off. Sorry to just email like this but you know how much you mean to me and I feel so very lost and I’d love a hug from you right now. And there’s so much to organise and so much to do. I mean legal things we need to see to and things to do ready to start this business next year. My French is still appalling. I’m trying to learn but there’s so little time. It was supposed to be Italy. I’d understand that more easily! I try to understand but I’m so tired and my head is so full of so many other things. I’m so very tired I just want to close my eyes and not wake up. Really that’s how tired I am. And I’m scared of seeing him become ill and grow old and die and of losing him. It’s not like in the songs is it? Why is watching someone you love grow old – and die on you – romantic? I can’t bear to see him like I saw my parents and can’t bear for him to go through that with me either… And I know that’s not the way to look at things but I can’t help it. You’re the only person alive who has known me (properly) for more than a few years and it’s terrifying and feels like my childhood never happened somehow. Sometimes, quite a lot of the time lately, I sort of don’t feel real. As if I don’t really exist. I don’t quite feel connected to anything anymore. I’m so so sorry to just write this and I know its not terribly cohesive but I wanted to talk to you only if I ring you I will get too upset and they’re all due back from their walk in a minute and I need to keep pretending I’m ok until I come up with a plan. I don’t expect any words of wisdom! I just wanted to “talk” to you and I hope my rambling hasn’t made you think any less of me because I’m really doing my best I honestly am putting on such a huge effort but I just miss them so very much and thought you might understand a bit how I’m feeling.
“What greater thing is there for two human souls, than to feel that they are joined for life — to strengthen each other in all labour, to rest on each other in all sorrow, to minister to each other in all pain, to be with each other in silent unspeakable memories at the moment of the last parting?”
George Eliot