One of my friends 'lost' her Mum earlier this year. As she started to grieve, I was nursing my Mum who eventually went into hospital where, many weeks later, she sadly passed away.
We are both grieving our Mums this year as are probably hundreds of thousands of others grieving someone who was incredibly important to them too.
No one prepares you for all those 'Firsts' that you have to do by yourself. If you are fortunate, you have someone who can accompany you to some or all of those Firsts. Someone to support you. Someone who cares for you as your start realising that the One you loved isn't coming back.
I received kind offers from some of my Mum's friends to accompany me to register her death, but I knew if I gave in and asked someone to come and support me that as soon as the funeral was over, I would be on my own and having to start all over again. So I went and registered her death by myself. It wasn't as bad as I thought it might be. The registrar was friendly, professional and explained everything that I needed to know as she went along through the process. It was an odd thing to have to do, but not as unpleasant or as difficult as I had imagined that it might be.
The next First was meeting with the Funeral Director. Doing that alone was intense. The Funeral Director was professionally kind and helpful. Decisions were reached. Processes followed through. Some difficulty with getting my Mum's body released from the hospital that was truly unpleasant but the interface through the Funeral Director was better than having to do it directly with the hospital.
I chose to go and view my Mother's remains when they were finally released from the hospital. How can it be that it is easier for a Funeral Director to get remains from a Care Home or Nursing Home, Hospice or when someone passes at home, but so difficult to get them from the sausage factory that hospitals are these days? The delay in getting her remains released was truly shocking. I had imagined all sorts of horrible things happening including that her remains had been released to the 'wrong' Funeral Director or that she'd been cremated! When no one is there to support you or explain what is happening and why there is such a delay, the imagination runs riot.
Viewing her body. That was another 'First'. She'd been kept in a fridge somewhere for three weeks. She was in surprisingly good condition though stone cold to the touch. The Funeral Director had kindly dressed her in the clothes that I had given him when he came to visit me after her death at the start of the process. I knew that she would look like a Madam Tussaud wax work figure, as that was how my Dad looked within an hour of his passing, so that wasn't a surprise. What I hadn't expected was the skin around her lower jaw. The Funeral Director explained that the puckering was owing to them trying to fix her smile. It hadn't worked, but that was hardly surprising given all she had been through. However, if I hadn't had someone behind me I would have bolted from the room.
The next 'First' was arranging her funeral. The floral tribute with no one other than the Florist to ask what it might look like with the colour scheme and budget that I had in mind. I chose something that I considered understated, and something I hoped she would approve of and like (as these things go). I only saw the floral tribute on the morning of the funeral and it was stunning in its simplicity and yet it summed up so much.
The Funeral was only a 'First' inasmuch as it was the First funeral where I had been the lead mourner. It was a beautiful service made more so as my Mum had carefully planned her Order of Service from processional music, hymns, readings etc. Following the service, one lady commented that the service had been "inspirational" and the part that struck her the most were the Readings that my Mum had chosen.
There have been many such 'Firsts'. The first drive without her in the car. The first telephone call to tell one of Mum's friends that she had passed. The first.....well you get the picture. These are all aspects of squaring the circle that was your Loved One's life. The ending parts. The final framing of the life that was lived, and which is no more.
The next First that I am facing is Christmas. As I feared, following the Funeral all the kind well-wishers have disappeared returning to their lives without my Mum in them. The place that she occupied is closed for them. For me it is a red, raw, open wound.
As they plan their Christmas feasts with their loved ones, I will be planning Christmas lunch for just me. There are no other loved ones to join me this year - they have all been called home and are in Spirit having passed through the veil many moons ago.
I could choose to go and spend Christmas away from home surrounded by strangers, eating a commerically produced Christmas lunch, but that is only an avoidance tactic. I have no plans to do that.
I do plan on getting an outdoors Christmas wreath and going and placing it on her resting place. There is no headstone yet, and it will look dreadfully bare, so I intend to go and lay a Christmas wreath. Getting one from a garden centre and then placing it, will...yes, you guessed it.... be two more 'Firsts'. Doing it this year, I hope will make it a bit easier for next year and the next year...and so on...until perhaps, one day I reach the point where I no longer need to visit her resting place.
Instead, this Christmas I want to face my grief head-on. I want to roll with it. I want it to sing through me. I want to cry. To wail. To have the tears pour down my face as I sing and sob to my Mum's favourite Christmas carols. I want to FEEL my grief in all its shades.
When I mentioned this to my friend, she said that my plans are "brave". I think that they are what I need.
Some people have bucket lists where they strike through all their 'Firsts' and move onto the next thrilling experience.
My grief is not on a bucket list. It is something that I have to learn to tame. To come to terms with. To live with every waking and breathing moment. To move forwards with.
Now, I will always grieve, but the grieving will change and become different. I am not the person I was over the Summer. I am not the person I was in September. Or October. Or even a day ago.
My grief is shaping my life as I move forwards.
But moving forwards is now all that I have.
It is important to me that I bear the memory of my loved Ones with grace. That I learn how to process all the Firsts so that when Christmas rolls around next year, my grief will be in the process of being a companion rather than an unsightly, gaping wound.
If this is your First Christmas after your Loved One has passed, know that they walk with you still even if you cannot hear or see them. They are waiting to be invited in for your Christmas cheer. To hear their favourite Carols and songs. To hear the laughter and to be part of your festivities. If you feel like setting a place at your table, then do so.
If you want to ignore their passing, then this is part of your process of learning to live with your grief. My only word of caution is don't let your grief consume you. In the long-term it may manifest as an illness, as unresolved grief can fester.
In my view, it is better to face grief each day. To heal a little each day, until you reach the point where you realise that you haven't cried during the day or that night. There's no shame or guilt in this. It just shows that you are healing. You are not forgetting them but the wound is closing a little. Healing a little. Letting you remember good memories not the ones that keep you attached to your grief.
I like to think of it like this: Each day that goes by is one day closer to being reunited in Heaven, but I want to have lived my life before that happens. So that I have stories to tell when I am reunited with my Mum. Stories that she will like. Stories that brought me some happiness and joy amid my grieving. When you feel happiness and joy, you are not disrespecting your Loved One, you are honouring them by living your life.
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