'What I do is me: for that I came.' G M Hopkins



Friday, July 2, 2010

Musings on Mortality

I went up to my mother’s grave this week expecting to see her name on the headstone, but it isn’t there yet.

Somehow it’s not real until it’s official, like a signature. The absence of her details allows me to believe, fleetingly, that she’s not really gone – not completely. I fancy that she’s here somewhere, waiting in the shadows with a shopping list and toenails that want cutting.

She died in January and I’ve been to four funerals since. All of them the parents of friends or relatives, as it should be – in the right order. Some of the funeral services were light and hopeful with intimations of eternity. One second cousin gave a long, moving and humorous tribute to his mother in which he recalled his father and his two brothers making music at home on the farm – the father on the fiddle or saxophone, his brother on the guitar, him on the piano while the youngest boy played on the linoleum! At least they’ll all be able to manage the harps and trumpets on the other side.

At that same funeral I stood by the graveside with my arm linked with my uncle Willie’s, who is 86 with a mop of pure white hair. As the family walked solemnly past us following the committal, the 90-year-old widower stopped to shake my uncle’s hand. ‘And is this your wife?’ he asked, looking at me. I quickly explained who I was, much to the delight and amusement of the bereaved sons and grandchildren behind him. Even in death, there is laughter. We can’t help it. Our survival instinct is so powerful that it overcomes our deepest grief and urges us to live on.

Other people prefer to leave it to the professionals to say something about the departed. One flew with the RAF in the war and might well have met my own father. Koch and Chestnutt are both unusual names, except we didn’t know each other then and it’s too late now to ask the old airmen.

It’s too late for a lot of things – we all could have been kinder, more patient and loving with our aging parents. We could have spent more lazy hours just listening rather than rushing to visit and then dashing off to do.

Do funerals age you? I think they can trigger an awareness of opportunities missed and a fear of too few days to fulfil our dreams. Several in a row can leave us in a stupor of fatalism and rob us of our own moment to live, laugh and love.

A cousin met a man recently who spoke well of my father and paid tribute to his memory. He said that he had been held in such high regard that people who had never met him felt as if they knew him. I still talk to people, twenty-five years later, who loved him and are grateful to him for being like Jesus to them. What a legacy!

During the vigil before my mother’s death, I hoped that she might have something of import to say. However, she was too tired to pass on anything deep and meaningful. I was reconciled to this with the thought that what my mother, and father, gave to me was me! All that I am and enjoy came through their genes, their influence and their example. She didn’t need to say anything more. All her wise words are already in my head and she lived a life of love and sacrifice which I can never hope to emulate. That’s enough to be going on with.

3 comments:

  1. What a wonderful entry mum, glad to see you've written again. I laughed out loud as I read about you and Willie, I love that we can smile in those moments. I, for one, definately agree that what Mr and Mrs Chestnutt poured into you is indeed a gift, one you have since passed on to me. x

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  2. What a great pic of Granny! I love to be reminded of her and to hear about the grand father that I never really knew. You have many days to come in which to fulfil your dreams Mum, and we'll be that bit more inspired to fulfil ours. Thanks for the musings!

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  3. Lol at G-Man and her hat!! Thinkin bout all the times i sat at ur dinner table with granny and the tribe and the fun and laughter we had with and at each other. Ruth, i am so thankful for wot ur mum and dad gave u. I cant thank them but I thank God 4 u. The world is a far better place with u in it, and i am so glad ur in my life. And to use ur words(cause im crap at english!)...'All her wise words are already in my head and she liveS(d) a life of love and sacrifice which I can never hope to emulate. From one teacher to another....keep up the gud work! Love ya. X

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