My mother died at the end of May and I am writing this to share with you how it feels for me to be dealing with this loss.
Mum had been deteriorating physically for some time and after a short spell in hospital in January she was admitted to a nursing home near to where I live. So when the matron telephoned at about 10:40 one Saturday morning saying that she felt that I should call round as soon as possible I was not entirely surprised.
Due to the traffic it took me about 25 minutes to get there. Whilst waiting in a queue at some traffic lights I had a strong feeling that Mum was 'waiting' for me. I felt that it would be OK if she did not wait as it would be right for her to go when it was right for her. When I reached the nursing home a few minutes later matron took me into her office and explained that Mum had died just a few minutes earlier.
It was what I was expecting but it was still a shock and I broke down into tears. When I had recovered slightly I was taken to see Mum (and I was given the traditional lukewarm, weak, sweet tea - ugh!). It felt very strange sitting with my mother's body and drinking tea. However, whilst I was left alone with her I was able to give her a good-bye kiss. Physical contact between us was not common and I remembered that the last time I had seen her she had asked me to hold her hand (which I did) and I had felt that this was significant.
When I got home I contacted my brothers, one of whom lives in Australia and the other in Wales. We have never been a close family but I felt close to them at this moment.
In the days that followed I contacted friends, family etc. to tell them what had happened. I found a lot of support and contact and people would listen to me in my need to talk about my grief and the loss that I felt. I began to realize that what I would miss most would be her smile and that recognition in her eyes I got when I went to see her. This was not someone who could be 4replaced' - this was the person who had brought me into the world, and for better or worse, had contributed to a lot to who I am. She was the one from whom I had first seen that light of recognition that said I am who I am and now I knew what it was, now I would have it no more.
After three days I went to work but I sat at my desk and wondered how I got there and why was I there anyway. I felt totally disconnected from what was going on in the world around me, as if it didn't matter and I had detached from it. I stayed off work for the rest of the week.
My husband, not usually a demonstrative bloke, was great and provided hugs and an attentive ear on demand. My therapy group and my therapist were also there when I needed them. They gave me space just to 'be' and to reflect in peace on my loss. During the training weekend, which was to be the last of this training year and so a lot about 'endings, I felt able to express more of my grief and get the contact I needed.
It had been decided in a family discussion that it would be appropriate to fulfill Mum's wish and to scatter her ashes on what would have been her 86th birthday. So on a warm summer's day in a place designated by her, where she had spent a lot of her childhood and been courted by my father, a small family group were assembled. And there, with bird-song and the scent of May blossom, we scattered her ashes. My husband read a poem that she had selected. It was a most positive moment standing in the sunshine in this beautiful place to say a final good-bye. They say that the funeral is for the living and for me this was very true. As I stood there on the hillside overlooking this quiet valley I felt very much in touch with the universe, in some sense although I was very small at the same time I was connected to and a part of a vast 'something'. Whilst standing on the grass and grounded on the earth that, had I wanted to, I could have reached up and touched the sky. I had a glimpse of what Mary Baker Eddy must have meant when she wrote "The depth, breadth, height, might, majesty, and glory of infinite Love fill all space. That is enough! Human language can repeat only an infinitesimal part of what exists" (Science & Health with Key to the Scriptures). I became aware of an inextricable link between life and death, a continuous cycle, that without one we cannot understand the other, that my pain of loss was also a part of living and need not stop me from feeling joy. In that brief moment I felt an overwhelming stillness and peace.
I occasionally feel some loss of concentration but that is getting less and less. There are nevertheless still moments of great sadness and, loss but those too are diminishing. However, a small, magical thinking, part of me still somehow believes that she is still in the nursing home and that if I went there I would find her in her room watching TV I am grateful that mother had had no fear of death and had accepted its inevitability. This had allowed us to talk about what she wanted and for me also to prepare for what I would need from 'that day'. Here is the poem Mum wanted read:-
Death is nothing at all, I have only slipped away into the next room.
I am I - You are you,
Whatever we were to each other that we are still.
Call me by my old familiar name, speak to me in the easy way you always used,
put no difference in your tone, wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.
Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes we enjoyed together.
Play, smile, think of me. Pray for me.
Let it be spoken without the shadow of a ghost in it.
Life means all that is ever meant, the same as it ever was.
What is death but a negligible accident?
Why should I be out of your mind because I am out of sight,
I am waiting for you all, for an interval, somewhere near, just around the corner.
All is well, nothing is lost.
One brief moment and all will be as it was before.
JANE GREAVES
Psychotherapist
Bereavement has many forms and comes from different causes. The loss may be
recent or from some time in the past. Whatever the reason for your grief, I offer
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