Saying Goodbye and Remembering... (My Experience Of Bereavement)

Member Name: karenuk

Product:	My Experience Of Bereavement
Date:	16/03/07 (234 review reads)
Rating:

Advantages: Brings the family together

Disadvantages: Where do I start???

In some ways, I am very lucky. Both my granddads and one great-granddad died in the 1970s, when I was too young to really understand. The next family death was an uncle in 1987, but he killed himself, which was slightly different and I felt mainly anger at him, for doing that to my aunt. I refused to go to the funeral. Then in 1998, my other uncle died, but I wasn’t very close to him.

So it wasn’t until this year that I really lost a family member I adored. My Nanna turned 100 in January and all of us went up to Lincoln to see her on the actual day. We stayed a few days up there and also went to her party at the weekend, which was a lovely event. Sadly, that was the last time we were ever to see her.

My Nanna was an amazing woman. She was fiercely independent. Widowed in the mid-1970s, she continued to live in the marital home until a couple of months before she died. She only had some help from social services in her 99th year. She loved dancing and passed her teaching exam in her eighties.

She also had a huge amount of love for her family. She worried about everyone. Even in her final months in the nursing home, she asked me to make sure my Dad (aged 61) was eating properly! Even when she was ill, she insisted my aunt sent my kids their pocket money.

She hated seeing doctors and only spent time in the hospital in those last few months. At the end, we had a few days to prepare ourselves, but receiving that phonecall from my Dad was awful. I was alone at the time and cried a lot then, once I had put the phone down.

Then I went into practical mode and rang the people who needed to know – two of my kids (who were away for half term) and my mother, who isn’t with my father any more, but my Nanna had been her mother-in-law for thirty odd years. That helped, as I had something to get on with.

When my husband and elder daughter returned, I dreaded them walking in. If I told them the news, it would have to be true, and I was still hoping it wouldn’t be. I also knew my daughter would cry and that would upset me all over again.

This was my first real experience of bereavement and I really didn’t know what it was going to be like. I expected I would cry a lot, but I only shed tears after the phonecall, until the funeral itself.

One thing I hadn’t expected were some of the comments I received. I was told I was lucky to have had her live so long, which I knew, but some were said with a tone of resentment. Of course, if someone dies young, it is particularly tragic, but my grief was real and it hurt. She lived 100 years and I knew her for 37 of those, but it wasn’t long enough. I still wish I could have had more time with her. My little sister (from Dad’s second marriage) is only six. I wish she could have spent more years knowing our Nanna too.

The main way that bereavement affected me was to make my depression much worse. I had times when I couldn’t get up, couldn’t get washed or dressed, couldn’t leave the house. I walked round like a zombie, slept a lot and spent hours doing mundane things to distract me. I spent hours on the Neopets website, playing tens of games of Solitaire or Pyramids. I found comfort in routine and found the outside world very scary.

I rang the doctor and was put on a higher dose of anti-depressants, but the grief was still there, of course. I became snappy and touchy. I withdrew as I always do, when I am feeling low. I hid in the house, cocooned by the four walls, feeling some kind of safety in this reduced world.

I managed to go to the local florist shop though and chose the wreath I wanted. I had never bought one before, but I chose one with purples in as her name was Violet and it seemed fitting. The wreath was beautiful and it felt comforting to be taking her such a lovely tribute.

She died in February and the funeral was in early March, when we again made the journey up to Lincoln. I had never been to a funeral before, but had tried to prepare myself asking my husband about his grandfather’s funeral and making sure Dad informed me of all the details. I wanted to know exactly what to expect. I just had an image of a funeral from EastEnders to work on otherwise, but that actually helped as the scenes were pretty realistic in many ways.

On the day of the funeral, it started quite well. We were all fairly cheerful, trying to keep our spirits high as much as we could. I was focusing on ‘giving her a good send off’ rather than my loss and grief. This day was for Nanna, when the whole family would show how much we loved her.

We waited outside the church with some of the family and even then, we were managing to be pretty upbeat. I thought it was going to be much easier than I had expected. I didn’t want to cry and at this stage, I thought I could manage not to.

It all went downhill when the hearse arrived. I felt such strange emotions. I felt angry that she was locked into a coffin. She was only a small lady and the coffin was bigger than I expected. I had to look away while the coffin was being removed from the hearse, it was so upsetting. If I looked over at my Dad or my cousins, I could see their tears, so I kept my head down, bowed in respect and avoidance.

I was managing not to cry though, as we walked in pairs up the path to the church. My husband was holding my arm, which was a great comfort to me but as I stepped into the church, the tears started and they barely stopped until the service had finished and we stepped outside again.

It was also distressing to see my kids and family crying. I had expected my daughters to cry, but thought my fifteen-year-old son would remain stoical. So I looked towards him at one point, only to find he was crying just as much as his siblings! My husband was my rock, squeezing my hand at various times and smiling reassuringly at me. I don’t think I could have done it without him there. I’d have been tempted to run out the church!

I am an atheist and one unexpected emotion I felt during the service was anger. I know many people find it comforting to hear religious things at a funeral, but it angered me. I was annoyed the vicar was talking as though she knew my Nanna, when she didn’t. I was annoyed she was saying my Nanna was in God’s arms, when I was convinced she was reunited with my granddad – not in heaven, but just somewhere they would be together and happy.

I also hated looking at the coffin and thinking my Nanna was in there. It just felt so unfair. The only part of the service I liked were the words my Dad had written, because they captured her personality perfectly and made me smile. I also took comfort from hearing my daughter singing so beautifully next to me.

I took two items with me to the funeral, which helped me feel somewhat better. I had my Marilyn Monroe handbag, which reminded me of all my friends in the Marilyn community who were thinking of me. I also had a small framed photo of my granddad in my bag and later in my coat pocket.

This was one item I had asked Nanna to leave for me. It was on her mantelpiece for years and I always associate it with her house. So I felt it was right to take the photo, giving me chance to pay my respects to him (as I didn’t go to his funeral) and to remind me of good times at my Nanna’s house as a child.

People had told me the internment was usually worse than the service, but I didn’t find it so. We chose to walk to the cemetery instead of drive and I found the walk in the cold air very refreshing and calming.

I was shocked to see the graveside though as it had green baize round it and straps, when I had expected it to look normal but with a hole for the coffin. Nanna was being buried with my granddad, so the headstone had been removed for the engraving, which gave it a strange air of unfamiliarity. I had visited Granddad’s grave so many times as a child, as Nanna would put fresh flowers on. Now I was here burying my Nanna in the same place.

The internment itself was respectful and I didn’t find it so upsetting. The funeral staff were excellent and her coffin was always handled slowly and with respect and dedication. I chose to throw some soil onto the coffin and I later went back to read the inscription, which I was pleased to do. These are things you cannot choose to do in the future, after all.

I couldn’t face looking at all the wreaths though, as I knew the cards would start me off crying again and I didn’t want to. After the graveside ceremony, my cousin and I wandered around the graves looking for other family members. My uncle, maternal great-grandparents and my granddad on my mother’s side are all in that top section of the cemetery, so I found comfort knowing they were all together in some way.

It’s strange what you take comfort from in times of grief, but I decided if it was making me feel better, it had to be right. These things are a very individual choice, of course, but whatever helps is beneficial to your wellbeing.

After the internment, we went to my cousin’s house for the wake. Only six weeks before, we had all been at the same house celebrating her 100th birthday and now we were back, remembering her life after her funeral.

There were loads of photos of Nanna in the house, put out especially for the wake and these were brilliant. Most were of Nanna in her youth and she looked amazing in the 1920s and 1930s, way before we knew her. It felt like she was somehow there with us and the wake wasn’t really sad at all, it was a family celebration of the life of a remarkable and much loved woman.

After the funeral, I still felt low and vulnerable for several days. But now, some two weeks or so afterwards, I feel I am beginning to heal. I still think of my Nanna every day and I have the framed photo of my granddad on my bedside table. But I feel more positive, even though I miss her and sometimes forget she’s not around any more.

She left me £150 in her will and when the money comes through, I am going to get all my photos developed from January, the ones from her birthday and her party. I want to go through all my boxes of photos and buy some new large albums to put them in. I want a photographic record of her, a tribute to her memory. I think this is a great way to spend the money she left me, as it will be something I keep safe forever and something that will remind me of all the great time we spent together – even if it was shorter than I would have liked.



Dedicated to my wonderful Nanna, 1907-2007.

Summary: One of the hardest things to go through...