The Other F Word. (part one)

“A ceremony or group of ceremonies held in connection with the burial or cremation of a dead person”

 

Funeral.

 

It’s a shame that the first three letters of this word have absolutely nothing to do with the actual meaning.

 

The funeral Director told us that we could go inside whenever we decided that we were ready. We stood outside torturing ourselves with idle chat for a few minutes trying to post pone what was ahead. After a few moments, we made our way into the chapel. We all knew what was going to be in there…

I let his parents and his brother make their way up first, while I gathered my thoughts for a few seconds. I looked down at the little blue box that I was holding in my trembling hands- my last gift to him. A baby blue box, tied neatly with a blue and white ribbon. Inside  were some things that I so badly wanted him to have. I made sure that every little thing in that box was something he’d hold dear to his heart. I filled it with things that I knew would make him laugh and smile. I also placed a letter in there that I had been writing over the past few days- I wanted it to be perfect… I would have ripped out my own heart and put it in that box if I could have…

I walked up the step, carrying that little blue box, and stood next to his brother. It took me a long time to look at what was right in front of me. I remember looking above the coffin and just seeing what was below, in my peripheral vision. I knew what it was. But still, I chose to ignore it for as long as I could.

 

His father knew what I was doing, and he came and stood next to me. With his arm around me, he said “you have to pull yourself together”. I looked up at him, and then my eyes followed his…  then I saw what he was looking at. His eldest son. My boyfriend. Lifeless. Dead.

 

Without even thinking about it, my body automatically went into meltdown. I could feel my heart throbbing. I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes. I could feel myself running short of breath. I looked up at his father one more time and tried my best to mutter out one simple word. I couldn’t do it. I tried to form a word. Just one word. Nothing. All that came out was a blood curdling howl. In my entire life- I had never… ever cried and screamed as much as I did at this moment. There were no words to describe how uncontrollable it was.

 

I was so shocked with my reaction that I immediately walked out. I quickly stumbled outside, where I sat on the ground, placing the little blue box beside me. I put my hands over my mouth to stop myself from screaming, and it took every ounce of my will to make me stop. I had to remind myself to breathe. I thought about how hard it must be for his parents and his brother, and I knew that I had to pull myself together and get back in there. After a few minutes, I dusted myself off and made my way back inside… I stood next to his father once again, where I muttered out a “sorry”. I felt so bad for reacting that way, but I couldn’t control it… I think he understood.

 

I composed myself after a while, and took a few deep breaths. I held that little blue box in my hands one last time before I placed it in the coffin beside him. I loosened the ribbon a little once I’d placed it by his side, so it would be easier for him to open. Sounds stupid, I know… I knew he wasn’t going to physically be able to open it.

 

We stood there in silence for a few minutes until we could hear the cars pull up outside. We heard people’s muffled voices as they walked across the gravel, making their way towards the chapel. We took that as our cue to leave for the moment, so we stepped away from the coffin, one at a time, and told him that we’d be back soon…

 

Why I said “No” to Grief Counselling.

The Grief Counsellor was introduced to us when we were at the hospital. He’d pick us out from where we were standing and would say things like “And you must be his partner” or “And I take it that you’re the brother?” etc. His way of addressing us was irritating to say the least. But it’s what he said next that I didn’t like.

“This was his journey…”

“You should be grateful that he died here, and not in some sort of horrible car accident. Just think, if he was in a car accident, he’d have looked much worse than this”

“It’s ok for you to move on and be with someone else, you’re only 25- he’d want that”

He said other things too, most of which I’ve chosen to forget. I understand that they must say things to cover every type of ‘loss’ situation but it was like listening to someone read from cue cards. I struggled to make eye contact with him throughout his talk as he made me furious.  I had to bite my tongue the entire time and the few times that I did manage to look up, I made sure that I gave him the foulest look of Hell. I really wanted to tell him to shut up and get out, but I knew that I couldn’t.

He rambled on with his “journey” and “life” speech for a few more minutes before he made his way around to each of us to give us his business card.  He put his hand on my shoulder when I didn’t respond to his handshake and left his card on the little table that was next to me. I turned my head away as he said goodbye and left the room. As soon as he left, I looked at everyone- They had all thought the same thing as I did. “What an idiot!”

I understand that these services are made available to us to make the transition to our new life easier.  I understand that the GC was just doing his job but I didn’t like the way that he spoke to us, or the things that he said. I’d like to think that other GC’s perhaps handle themselves differently, and (I hope) have different approaches with these incredibly personal situations.

It was for this reason, and this reason alone that I chose not to seek any grief counselling. I didn’t want to hear about these supposed “journeys”. I didn’t need someone to look at me, and fill me with their ideas of how this was “meant to be”. It meant nothing to me and for the most part I found it insulting to say the very least.

I didn’t want any advice from anyone unless they were, or have been in my exact situation. Because only they would know how it feels.

To the person that’s walking in my shoes:

I am certain that counselling can have some amazing benefits. But, it comes down to the individual. Had this person been different, I may have been more comfortable talking with someone about it, and maybe finding good ways of dealing with certain things, rather than finding things out for myself, though I’ve not regretted the way of which I handled anything.

Grieving is a very personal thing and only you will know how you feel- so don’t let anybody tell you how you should be feeling. Don’t let anybody force you into seeking counselling. On the flip side of that, don’t let anybody tell you that you shouldn’t seek counselling. It’s up to you and you alone. Only you will know how you feel.

My advice would be to make an appointment with a GP and see them if you feel up to it. They will have resources and contacts available for you for if and when you need it. It took me about 3 weeks to see one and I’m glad that I did it. It meant that they were aware of my situation and it was on record for any future reference.

During our appointment, we discussed how I was coping mentally, emotionally, and physically, and we also discussed the options of anti-depressants. I told her the truth. If you decide to see a GP, please be honest with them. Tell them exactly how you feel- They’re there to help you and the only way they can help you is if you’re 100% honest with them.

I am here to share my story and how I have dealt with my loss. I cannot stress that enough that everyone grieves differently and that there is no right or wrong way to go about it and that any advice that I give is not a “professional opinion”.  But what I do know is what I have learnt, and looking back now, what I wish I may have done differently.