I have been thinking about Ecclesiastes 3, which talks about there being a ‘time for everything’, including death. But there is also ‘a time to keep and a time to throw away’ (v6) and that is what I am facing right now.
While I know many people utilised the time during lockdown to blitz rooms in their homes that had become overfull with unnecessary clutter, our lockdown was more manic than our life is usually. And, as my husband is deep into DIY in our bathroom currently, we are not sorting through and throwing away anything – apart from damp and rotten wood, tiles and an old shower!
No, this time to keep and throw away is related to the earlier verse: ‘a time to be born and a time to die’ (v2). Although my mum died back in February, this is the first opportunity there has been to go and stay with my dad, so that I can help him sort through mum’s things.
I am sure there will be a mixture of emotions felt over the next few days and, while we may hold on to some things for sentimental reasons, in order to remember mum well, we will also need to make practical decisions and get rid of items that none of us can utilise.
As I’ve been thinking about going away, I’ve realised that this is the next stage in my grieving journey. It will necessitate another layer of letting go, as we package up clothes to take to charity shops. It will feel like losing another part of mum, and I know I will find it really hard. I hope I’ll be gentle on myself, and walk this next path with Jesus as I know he will be close by.
But I also think there is a letting go that most of us need to do in this time, as we are easing out of lockdown. We need to let go of the pressure we may be putting on ourselves to ensure things go back to ‘normal’ quickly – whatever normal was.
We need to let go of the frustration we may feel because 2020 has certainly not been as we envisaged or hoped. Whatever control we thought we had over our lives has been shown up for what it really was – an illusion. Some of us will be struggling with that intensely. Perhaps it’s time to let go of the struggle and move towards acceptance…
Lockdown has also brought the best out in some people – but the worst in others. It may be that we’ve been on the receiving end of some of the worst. Perhaps it is time to let go of the pain that has been inflicted and any unforgiveness that has arisen in our own hearts as a result.
Reflection: Take some time before God to ask him whether there is anything that you need to let go of. You might want to bring those things before him and, in a symbolic act, when you are ready place your palms downwards to show that you are letting them go, out of your grasp. Then, again when you are ready, perhaps you could turn your palms upwards to receive whatever it is that God has for you today.
A photo of mum and I, taken back in 2014 for a Woman Alive article we both wrote.
I know that I have mentioned in previous blogs that my mum died a few months ago. As it is Good Friday, and we are focusing on the agonising death our saviour experienced for us, I am taking a break from the weekly series I am currently sharing on my blog. I feel it is right instead, to lament. And, as so much of my grief has been tied up in my mother’s recent death, I am going to share more deeply about the process of planning and then going to the funeral of a loved one in the midst of this global pandemic. I know that many people are unable to be near their loved ones as they lay dying, and some are unable to attend funerals – I held off sharing because of feeling sensitive to this. However, I was specifically asked to write about my experiences – and then found I was unexpectedly left with the material available for me to use personally. I know my writing is raw, deeply personal and painful at times, but I also feel we are in a stage of collective grief and I hope and pray that my blogs today and tomorrow may help give some people voice to their grief, as they recognise some of the emotions I describe.
This year has not been as any of us anticipated, despite all the new year hype about it being a new decade. However, for my family, the change from usual routines began in January, with the news that my mum was nearing the end of her life (something we had been told for the last two and a half years could happen any time).
I was travelling back from a meeting when I suddenly had a call to say that I needed to get down to my parents’ house as soon as possible. But then, in typical mum-style, she hung on for another ten days, during which time I was able to sit by her bedside, share with her and, in fact, finish writing the devotional I was in the process of writing. It is on loss and disappointment, which was certainly very up close and personal to me during that time (when I was asked to write it, I had an inkling that I was about to walk through personal grief – but I had no idea of the collective loss we were about to face as a nation). It was, in fact, very cathartic to write while I was with mum and, now the COVID-19 pandemic is literally everywhere, the mixture of lament and hope I gleaned from scripture seems so apt for us all.*
Ever-changing arrangements
Since mum’s death, I have been emotionally very up and down. The whole process of mourning for mum has been difficult because her death certificate was not released to us for over a month (due to complications with doctors). It meant her funeral could not take place until the end of March, which put us slap bang in the middle of the lockdown and all the other implications the pandemic has caused.
I can look back now and say I am so grateful that my mum was taken before the coronavirus broke out (as she had a lung disease so would have been super susceptible). However, I have to be honest and say there have been days when I have struggled with the fact we had to wait so long for the funeral, and the changes we had to make to it because of the time lapse.
My mum was so organised – her funeral ideas had been penned and ready for a couple of years. But we had still gone through the agonising experiences of visiting the funeral director, choosing a venue for after the service, pulling together the order of service and inviting guests. Each of those things, when you are exhausted from being involved in end-of-life care, as well as consumed by the enormity of grief, feels like it is one thing too many.
As the virus has spread, it has felt like each week brought with it the enormous weight of new and desperately difficult decisions to make. Sometimes the burden felt unbearable – and then simply pointless as, a few days later, the decision we had made was then made null and void due to changes to government guidelines.
One week we agonised over whether to make the funeral immediate family only. We were concerned some family weren’t sure they could travel any longer. Others had begun to self-isolate as they were high-risk. And most of mum’s local friends were over the age of 70 anyway. So we did decide to take the decision out of people’s hands, so they wouldn’t feel guilty for choosing not to come.
And then the lockdown loomed. We knew it was coming; we were just hoping it would happen after the funeral. Listening to Boris address the nation was horrific. I was literally clinging to a cushion, desperate to take in all he said and feeling more and more anxious as the announcements were all about shutting things down and staying indoors. But then came the news that funerals could still go ahead – for the moment at least. My heart leapt…but then I was left with many questions. Would the crematorium local to my parents still be allowing family to attend? How many of us would be allowed to go? Would different decisions be made in the few days leading up to the funeral, which would mean we suddenly couldn’t be there? After all, this has been such a fast-moving situation, and we’ve had to change things over and over again.
Speaking to my dad and sister, we continued with plans to bring the immediate family together, but decided to pare back the service as there would be so few of us. We may have a celebration service in the summer with those that were supposed to be with us, if the pandemic has ceased – but who knows how we will all feel by then, and how many others we will be mourning by then.
Thoughts from the eve of the funeral…
I have cried so many tears over the arrangements, and what we have had to change. But I have also reminded myself and my family that we were blessed to be able to be with mum when she made the journey from life here to life with Jesus. So many people are dying, alone, in hospitals. And I know there are those missing family funerals because they are having to isolate themselves due to symptoms. That can make me feel guilty at times, although I know that is one negative emotion I needn’t be feeling (although that doesn’t stop it).
The funeral is tomorrow and I am full of mixed emotions about it. I’m totally wrung out trying to navigate life with us all working from home; my husband and I already mainly work from home but now we have our children doing online schooling here too (just like most other families). But my husband is a pastor and so we have been navigating setting up online services, and trying to keep everyone connected. That has consumed his thoughts and most of his waking hours, so the run up to the funeral has felt pretty lonely too…
* Everyday insights into loss and disappointment is a 30-day personal devotional, being published in May by CWR.
