Mum with me and my sister Angela
There is a scene in the
first Lord of the Rings film, Fellowship of the Ring – the fellowship have
passed through Moria but Gandalf has fallen into the depths and is lost. His friends are now in the forest of
Lothlorien, mourning the loss of their beloved leader. The elves of Lothlorien are singing a lament
for Gandalf, and Merry asks Legolas “what do they say about him?” Legolas
answers “I have not the heart to tell you. For me the grief is still too near.”
Mum died seven weeks ago,
and when people in their kindness ask how I am, I don’t really know what say –
for me the grief is still too near. I
feel like I’m under a blanket of snow, not frozen, but insulated. Occasionally a gust of wind blows the snow
away and the pain is raw, and then it settles again. In time it will melt and I will find what is
below. But for now I am blessed to have
the words of others which hold me in this time and place.
The first words I am held
by are mum’s words. A few months before
she died, we were talking, and she told me “I think I’m getting ready to say
goodbye.” Mum’s stroke had robbed her of
her independence, and though she made the best of every day and brought life to
those around her, she was tired, and was ready to go.
It was hard to walk those last
months, as mum’s energy left her and she sank deeper into herself each time I
saw her. The words that held me then came
from Richard Holloway. In his book,
Waiting for the Last Bus, he talks very honestly and simply about what it is to
live at the end of life. I had stood at
many a bus stop with mum over the years, and these words helped me as I sat
with her now, waiting till she caught that last bus.
Mum died on twelfth night. Her cousin Donall told us that this was Nollaig na mBan, the day when by tradition in Ireland the women took their rest after all the hard work of Christmas. Another word to hold me - a fitting day for mum to take her leave from the world, for her final rest.
In the day s following, I lost myself in the words of Jane Austen. Mum and I shared a love of Austen, and so as I re-read Sense and Sensibility (and re-watched the TV adaptaion, and read Joanna Trollope's modern adaptation) I was able to find relief from my grief, while staying connected with mum.
At this time, friends and relatives offered many words, hugs, cards, flowers, most of which are now list in my memory and yet each played their part in holding me in that strangest of times. I also found a blessing in music. Whether in church listening to the choir, or at Celtic Connections listening to Mary Chapin Carpenter, music gave me much needed space for feelisngs to come, to simle and to cry, without having to think too much about it.
The last word goes again to mum. Years ago, we were talking about my dad, who died when I was 19, and mum was the age I am onw. Mum and I talked aobut how the grief changes over the years, and as life goes on it is less about the sharp pain o loss, and more about the ongoing sadness that the person we love is not around to share in the sorrows and joys of life.
My grief will never leave me, but I have the rest of my life to find the words for it, and in the mean time I will lean on the words of others.
