Post-Mortem Post-Mortem

[andrewducker]

Funeral's over. The event itself didn't do a lot for me - I avoid funerals wherever possible and ones that include a fair bit of christianity turn me off almost entirely. But it's all part of the process and I wanted to be there for solidarity with Dad, who has after all just lost his mother.

Afterwards everyone went to the house my grandmother lived in. That was _strange_. It seemed very wrong without her in it. Her chair was sitting there in the corner - I discussed it with Mum and neither of us could even imagine sitting in it. I walked into the back garden and thought about all the changes that had happened there since I first played in it. She'd lived there since I was 13 - I don't even remember the place she lived before. There's a bed in the annex where I read The HitchHikers Guide to the Galaxy for the first time. There are the trees I chased my brothers around (although some of them are now gone). There is a tree that I remember being planted - now twice my height. The greenhouse where she used to grow tomatoes.

I chatted to various uncles, aunts and cousins, never feeling comfortable or part of anything. When people slowly started to drift off towards their cars I spent a few minutes standing in the garden, alone, just feeling all the time I spent there, all the memories I had built up. It's probably the last time I'll be there. I rarely think of it in normal life and I'll probably slowly forget about it, but right now it seems so wierd that something that had been in my life so long could just end.

One of the things it's really made me think about was the thought of my father or mother dying, which was frankly fairly terrifying. I don't see them that often, or talk to them more than once a week or so. But I've realised that they're embedded deeply into my life - a rock I depend on so deeply that it's easy to forget they're there - like not being aware that the ground is there until there's a possibility that it might not be.

I think I'm going to go and spend some time with them now.

Comments

[armoire-man.livejournal.com]

Beautiful post. We all take things like your grandmother's garden, and our parents, for granted. When they go away it's amazing how much they mean, or meant.

a rock I depend on so deeply that it's easy to forget they're there - like not being aware that the ground is there until there's a possibility that it might not be

Yes. Don't know what else to say besides that.

[derumi.livejournal.com]

Definitely a foundation for one's life.

[paddie-gal.livejournal.com]

It's odd - having a parent die was, for me, the most earth-shattering thing in the history of time - but it's amazing how normal it seems to me now. There's friends who say "I can't imagine it - I don't know how I'd cope" etc, but it's really hard to explain that you *do* cope. I really like what you've said about your grandmother - I truly understand what you mean, and I can only say that in time, you will mean it even more - there are days, even weeks, when Mam and Dad aren't in the front of my mind, and then suddenly, something will happen, I'll watch a movie, or hear a piece of music or something fairly normal like that, and it hits me like a ton of bricks. I don't still have the raw pain, at least not often, but sometimes it's the hardest thing in the world not to break down. I don't really know where I'm going with this post, I just really liked yours, and wanted to tell you.

[nickys.livejournal.com]

Hugs.

I remember the last time I sat in my grandparents' garden after Grandad's funeral. As you say, there are so many memories in a house you've known for most of you life.

[lilitufire.livejournal.com]

That sounds like a very good idea.

[green-amber.livejournal.com]

I have been worried for some about how I would feel without my parents. I am pleased that the project of making belated friends with my father seems finally to be advancing a little, albeit via rather odd circumstances..

[cx650.livejournal.com]

I am sorry for your loss, please express my condolences to all involved even though they don't know me.

I came face to face with my own mortality 18 years ago when my sister died many years before her time. I seem to have learned, more by luck than judgement, that death is nothing to be afraid of, this gave me an inner peace which has enabled me to carry on with little or no detrimental effect. I hope that you can achieve this state of mind too.

To borrow a Jewish tradition, I wish you long life.