TEXTS Tuesday 9 Dec 2014: 10.02
Mum: Good morning had a good sleep hope you have luv u xxxx
Me: Good to hear that! I will be with you soon. Love xxxx
I had an appointment with the Undertakers first thing, and was very, very nervous. I’d never been to an Undertakers, I didn’t know what to expect. I had no-one to go with me and I was cold and shivering when I arrived. It was a small business, a family business I think, and the person who talked things through with me was a lovely, kind, professional woman a few years younger than me. I briefly explained the situation… Glossing over what to me was the awful details because I’d assumed that a double funeral was not quite as uncommon as you might think. However, her eyes filled with tears and she said no, it wasn’t something she had ever had to deal with. Far from treating it as just a usual affair, she completely understood, and sympathised… Both Mum and myself wanted a joint funeral. Dad had to be removed from the hospital morgue, since he died early on Thursday and it was now Tuesday. The Macmillan doctor had told me that Mum would die within a few days, but no… we didn’t have to fix a date for the funeral until she had died. Christmas, looming, complicated matters, it seemed, more than you’d expect… Dad could be brought to the funeral parlour that afternoon, and be embalmed, as he waited for my Mum… I’m sure Dad would have been able to crack a joke at “waiting for Mum”, I thought, the tension and strangeness of the situation threatening to overwhelm me at any minute…
So, I sat drinking tea, showing Sandra the leaflets my Dad had saved… Where he and Mum had scribbled “This one” next to the coffin of their choice. We talked briefly about what they wanted and where the church service would be, but she appreciated that I wanted to get back to Mum. Everything was going as planned by my Father until we came to the flowers… He had chosen a simple deep red bouquet of roses, as, of course, had my Mother… Unfortunately, they were no longer available, and the nearest thing to it was quite a lot larger… I didn’t want to get different flowers. Dad had bought Mum a dozen deep red roses for every wedding anniversary, because that was the bouquet she had at their wedding in 1955… So, I ordered two of the large arrangements, one for each coffin. All other details could be left, so I paid my deposit and drove to the hospice, while they arranged to collect my Dad from the morgue later that day.
I had got engaged just before my Dad died – my fiancé had wanted to ask for their blessing while they could still give it. I had asked Mum if, until we bought a ring, I could wear her engagement ring, which was still in her jewellery box. Of course, she was delighted that I wanted to and I was wearing it that day, sitting at the table at the Undertakers, holding onto the ring that Dad had bought for her 6 decades earlier… Prompted by this, I took Mum’s jewellery box into the hospice and asked her tell me about some of her favourite pieces. Of course, her eyes lit up, and we placed her life story onto the bedspread, so that all the memories surrounded her, and she carefully, quietly, explained each piece to me… Whispering, but energised, as she told me tales of friends, sisters, but mainly my Father. I couldn’t spoil the beauty by taking notes. I thought there was a slim chance I’d remember every detail, but of course I can’t, and that saddens me… But, I remember enough and, more importantly, I have that lovely memory to treasure… Mum propped up in bed, handling her jewellery, bought with so much love, for the last time… Together we chose special pieces to give to her sister, my cousin, my cousin’s daughter, and my Dad’s sister-in-law… The rest was for me, to keep and to wear, to sell (never!), or to take to a charity shop… We wrapped them in the little strips of organza or empty boxes I’d brought in, and put them in her bedside cabinet ready to give out…
While I was having lunch in the hospice that day, my cousin in Australia telephoned me on my mobile. I hadn’t spoken to her for maybe 35 years… She was very fond of both my parents, visited them whenever she came to England, wrote to my Mum a couple of times a year. It was lovely talking to her, but it reminded me that the memories of her youth which Mum shared with me were REAL stories, not just… stories; that other people loved my mother.
When I went back into Mum’s room, her sister, brother-in-law and my cousin’s daughter were in there…..singing Christmas Carols quietly, and of course, my Mum was joining in, whispering. It was an incredibly touching scene, especially “Away in a Manger”, which Mum had always loved, just as she had always loved children… All have great voices – they sing in a choir – and the music did not belong to the hospice, nor to death, but to some other place entirely.
After they left, Mum was exhausted, but we still watched her favourite quiz on television…and she still knew a great many answers! I didn’t stay too late, though, because she settled down and wanted to sleep… It had been a long, long day for me, too. The beauty of it all was too much. This special, precious time with my Mum…but always the constant “How?”… Always “When?”
TEXTS: 9 Dec 2014: 20.03
Mum: Good night god bless you luv you lots xxxx
Me: Goodnight and God Bless… I love you lots, too! xxxx
Text to a colleague, 9 December 2014:
Its all very unreal. I’m spending my days in the hospice with Mum but their flat’s so lonely at night. This time is precious and I will treasure it forever. Had to see undertaker today – so hard doing it alone. We are waiting for Mum to die. She is desperate to join him. We are all just waiting. The whole experience is making me re-evaluate life, and think too much, and I feel shaken to the core…
“Be near me, Lord Jesus, I ask Thee to stay
Close by me forever, and love me, I pray.
Bless all the dear children in thy tender care,
And take us to heaven, to live with Thee there.”Away in a Manger – this verse John T. McFarland in 1904.