It has been a while, for which I apologise but I wanted to write about loss and I find that quite difficult.
Dignity in death
One of the privileges of being a doula is that you walk beside someone who is taking their final journey and it never ceases to amaze me how dignified that can be.
Of course, it is emotionally charged and it can be like walking on the high wire, not that I ever have! But if you listen carefully and try not to make assumptions you hear such profound wisdom from the person whose life is coming to a close. It is as though they are seeing their life in high definition.
Just recently I have been working with a gentleman whose life was long and rich and who died properly; by which I mean he had the time to tie up the loose ends and was at peace with his death.
Conversely, there are deaths that slow and agonising where there is profound pain and suffering and these are hard for all those involved.
The cruelest deaths are those that are unexpected or untimely – no chance to say goodbye, a life cut short leaving behind unanswered questions, unrealized potential and that gut-wrenching sadness that is writ large on those left behind. Or the living death where illness robs you of your loved one and they are locked away from you with dementia or another life changing condition.
Recognising loss and responding to it
It got me thinking about what goes on in the houses up and down the country when the funeral is over and you are alone with your grief.
There may be no outward sign of your loss, you may feel that you do not want to burden others with your sadness. Hopefully, you have friends to share your grief; but if you are bereft, where do you turn for solace?
The reality is that we all carry internal baggage, emotional ephemera that informs who we are – there will be a button that when pressed will provoke a response that can be shocking in its severity in all of us.
For some, music, a sound or smell will set you off – sometimes it can be someone’s mannerisms, their gait or a turn of phrase that echoes and will bring your loved one to the fore.
Our response to that trigger is an indicator of where we are in our journey through loss. It would be trite to say that it gets easier; I am not sure that it does, I think that life goes on and the business of everyday gets in the way of grief.
We need to be mindful of that, we need to nurture our humanity so that we can respond adequately to another person’s suffering. We need to cherish our own losses too, for it is by knowing loss that we can recognise loss in others.
Support in grief
We are lucky that death is less of a taboo now than it was when I was a child.
In years gone by the goodwives of a village assisted at the birth of a child and at the laying out of a dead person. The inevitability of life and death was accepted and conversation around life and death was part of everyday behaviour. As is so often the way, there is comfort in normality and the acceptance of death does not diminish the suffering but allows for the continuance of conversation as though they are still part of the fabric of life.
In my childhood death became a hushed subject not to be talked about in-front of the children. Children did not go to funerals; what a relief it was to see Deborah James’ children playing a part in their mother’s funeral – deeply sad though it is, they will eventually take some crumb of comfort from having been included in her funeral.
I welcome the opportunity for conversation with others who are sharing your experience be it in an organised format or just in a run of the mill, normal sort of way where there are enlightened people who recognize suffering and do not shy away from it.
I wonder whether our experience of covid has helped us to appreciate each other a little more? Certainly, we have been rudely awakened to the importance of mental well-being and an understanding of our own suffering. Was there a time when it was bad manners to allow others to see us in extremis? I fear that it may have been.
In conclusion
I do not advocate sharing every detail of your life; but a relaxation of the “stiff upper lip” in favour of humanity and empathy is such a positive thing that, surely, we will all benefit from being more receptive.
I think that the message is be kind to those around you; allow people time to talk and ask about how they are feeling, ask and be prepared to listen to the answer.